


Prelude to Time Feelers

by DorkyTomato



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: A focus on E. Aster Bunnymund, Amnesia, An author that doesn’t know to write romance, Do you know how much time I spent on this, Dream Pirates, E.Aster Bunnymunds story, Enemies to Allies to Friends to BEST friends to Lovers, Excessive amounts of War, F/M, Fearlings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Grief, It’s all okay in the end I promise guys, Jack Frost has age manipulation abilities, Jack helps and heals, Kangaroos and Bunnies oh my, M/M, Oak of Sorrows, Original Pooka Characters and Ideas, People see Jack!, Pooka E. Aster Bunnymund, Púca | Pooka, Revisitation of memories, Slow Burn, Spirit of Spring and Life, Spirit of Winter, The Author Took Creative Liberty, The League of the Star Captains, Toohiana is cool, Twiner | Jack Frost’s staff, War, lots of fluff, myths and legends, or how to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 104,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorkyTomato/pseuds/DorkyTomato
Summary: How long did it take him to forget?How long did it take him to not wince as they called him “rabbit”?How long did it take him to relight his hope?He breathed, “I can’t say.”Jack looked disappointed. The bloke smiled anyway, “Oh, that’s right. Old folk do tend to, ya know,” He circled his fingers in loops around his head, “lose it. You’re practically senile already.“(This is a story of Firsts. And of Lasts. It’s of endings. But more importantly, it’s of new beginnings.)
Relationships: E. Aster Bunnymund/Jack Frost, Nicholas St. North/Toothiana
Comments: 28
Kudos: 71





	1. A New Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi  
> *nervous giggling* 
> 
> Okay first—  
> Any hateful or rude comments will be ignored because I am doing this simply for fun.  
> I am well aware this fic is not completely accurate and does not follow the books. It mainly follows the movie but with additional research and stuff I found from researching the books, reading them, Bill Joyce’s instagram, other fanfics, and my own ideas. This is not a fanfic of a fanfic! I read a fanfic similar to a few of my ideas, but I am not copying any one else’s ideas!— but there are some general ideas that many fanfics agree with. (Bunny being a spring spirit for example) 
> 
> With that out of the way!! I am excited to post this and I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I don’t expect a lot of followers with the fandom being 8 years old and practically dead, but any comments would be appreciated!

**0 CYCL MiM**

**Nightlight is born**

Darkness. 

That’s the first thing I remember. 

It was _dark,_ it was _cold,_ and I was _scared._

But then…

There was _Light._

And it was good. And it was warm. And it sounded like the laughter of ten thousand children. And it felt like starlight. 

And it was me. 

* * *

**1000 CYCL BMiM**

**E. Aster Bunnymund is born**

  
  
  


The world was loud. Laughter, and voices, and music bounced off the walls of his ears and settled in his bosom. Vibrant shades of colors danced as kaleidoscopes on his eyelids. He pulled his paws up to his chest and felt a strange feeling, a glorious feeling bubble from inside there. 

“Oh,” A voice of honey and caramel, “Look at this one.”

“Bright, he is,” Another voice of dark chocolate and strawberry, “Full of… _hope.”_

_Hope._ That’s it. The dainty spark danced around the three beings of life, and it made its home permanently in a little creature's heart. 

And then a light, matched to his luminosity, was next to him, so close that he could reach out a paw and blindly touch the light. A half moon. A twin sun. Two lights of the same bright united together. The little creature sighed in happiness as the world around him grew soft and glowed with white light. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 CYCL— 280 days, the near equivalent to an Earth year
> 
> MiM— Time Era marked by the the Man in the Moon’s birth  
> CYCL BMiM— The number of cycles (yearsish) before the Man in the Moon is born
> 
> Beginnings are important, yeah? I always was sad I couldn’t find more information on the beginning.


	2. Warmth and Light and the Lack of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more information about Aster’s childhood and we're starting the Present Timeline which is mostly in Jack’s POV!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My update will not be every day, closer to every week, but they will be consistent :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading and tell me what you think! Feel free to comment your predictions (not you EmotionalPancake2003) and tell me your ideas! I love these characters a lot and honestly just want to talk about them.

**1000 CYCL BMiM**

**E. Aster Bunnymund: age 0 CYCL,1 solann, 4 phases, and 2 days**

  
  


A sharp noise was cutting through the fuzzy silence. A cry. A high pitched wail that spelled distress and hurt. The small Pooka infant searched for the source and found it to be the warm body next to his. He did not open his eyes, for he had not yet grown to see beyond the dark expanse he came from and the bright bulbs of light that the infant began to associate with the warmth he felt. The light that shared his same brightness was warm and furred just as he was, and the infant searched with his sniffing small nose and minuscule paws to reach the wailing light and nuzzle by its side. The pained noises subsided, and the kit breathed a short burst of air out of his lungs in relief. He did not understand why the lights were there, he did not know of his own existence, or that no Pooka could see before their eyes gained sight as he could. He was simply light, and so was this small being next to him. The world was simply warm and soft, and that softness blended and dissolved into the caves of his memory and sat in the center. The memory of nothing more than feeling safe and light.

More noises filtered into his ears and they twitched in response. The noise was familiar, and it reminded him of a starless expanse and the steady thrum of two heartbeats surrounding him. The noises were chopped and cut between spaces, unlike the piercing cry of the other lights. The kit yawned in response to the warm voices and nuzzled closer to the warmth at his side. The voices belonged to other lights too. Now the kit was beginning to associate the voice of honey and caramel to the light that was white like their own light but edging with purple at the tips of the flame. And the voice of dark chocolate and strawberry held a light of green, flickering and spreading like vines from the center of deep blue. Of course, the Pooka kit did not know of colors yet, of honey and chocolate, of vines, but he soon would. 

As when he was nothing more than an embryo in black space, the kit expected the world to stay dark with only the flicks of light and warm voices to surround him. But the world shifted constantly around him. He would be picked up and rocked when he made his whimpers of distress. He would be shifted from place to place, with such different smells sifting into his nose. Mostly, he didn’t like the new smells. He preferred the familiar smells that accompanied the soft fur that carried him and bright lights in his sight. Though, the lights changed too. All around him there were little bursts of light that he could sense. The small brush of green that twirled out of the ground oddly, the brown thrum of light that came from large objects all around him. Later he would learn they were called plants and the earth, but for now, he simply gazed at the softer, duller strokes of light that was almost as delightful as the balls of burning energy in the voices’ centers. 

Now, his setting had changed once again. The environment was mostly black again so he relied on his nose for more information. The ground was hard, but not so unpleasant that he found himself distressed. It was cold and if the small infant searched his senses deep enough he could feel the light miles and miles beneath the cool surface. The voices were bright and encouraging but so far away. Lifting his all head to sniff them, the kit squeaked when he found himself unable to cross the distance between himself and the two bigger, colorful lights. The voices encouraged him once more and the kit stretched his paws into an awkward crawl to find his way closer to them. After a few stumbling tries, he found himself with enough momentum to make it halfway. The determined kit only paused when he heard a small distressed squeak from behind him. He sensed his twin light behind him and chirped back. Couldn’t his twin light see that they wanted them to follow their voices and light? Unlike him, the little light was twisting this way and that, sniffing blindly in any direction and taking uncertain steps forward. Without hesitating, he half crawled, half shuffled back to the small light. Affectionately he bumped his head against the other and pushed him in the right direction. If the being had a hard time sensing the light then the little kit knew he would have to push him in the right direction. 

Eventually, the two Pookan kits made it safely into their parent's arms, each cradled with the amount of love and affection that the kit tied to the glowing flame that burned brighter when they were together. 

  
  


  
  


* * *

**A few months after Jack Frost becomes a Guardian:**

**2012 Beginning of June: PRESENT**

  
  


Jack is alone most of the time. 

Alone. It’s a word that clings to him like his faded linen white shirt- so old that it has become transparent in places. It’s a word that splinters into him like the hundreds of wood pieces slicing through his skin from his staff; not quite painful, but enough to make him flinch when something simply brushes against it. It's a word that is the cold. 

Alone is watching the snowflakes drift down through the sky, together in a million ways that Jack isn’t as they start as lone flakes of ice and seep together into a thick blanket. Even snow is a harsh reminder that everything, no matter how tiny and insignificant, isn’t as alone as he is. Jack is a snowflake in some ways. He sticks like glue to others, hoping that if he clings hard enough that they will stay together. But the sun always comes and melts away whatever kept them stuck to each other. So by now, he’s learned. He knows that if he wants to survive, it's better if he drifts on the winds, never sticking, never landing. 

So really, he’s not upset at them. At the guardians. 

They’re busy and Jack, well, Jack knows what’s best for him. It’s like they’re avoiding Jack or anything. Excluding Bunny. 

Jack didn’t know what he expected after he officially became a guardian and hopped on the back of North’s sleigh. Some milk and cookies? A hand guide on ‘How To Make Your Own Holiday’? A slumber party? Turns out: not that much. North scratched the back of his head and said that usually, new guardians came around when there was an-end-of-the-world-crisis sort of thing, and afterward, they were free to continue whatever good works they had previously been doing until the next inevitable crisis. A real friendly “we don’t need you anymore, but we’ll call you when we do!” goodbye.

Bunny nodded to them and said he had some ‘Spring Cleaning’ to do. The crushed eggs in the tunnels all around the world weren’t going to clean up themselves. Jack wanted to help, it had partially been his fault after all, and Bunny was starting to act warmer towards Jack during the battle with Pitch. Maybe- a hopeful feeling rose in his chest- maybe Bunny would let him make it up to him. But as soon as he opened his mouth to offer, he saw Bunny’s face. Clouded green eyes and a growing glower on his face. His scowling attitude was directed towards everyone and everything, and in hindsight, Jack figured he just must have been tired, but it looked like he might have started growling and biting if Jack voiced his offer of help. Did rabbits growl? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to risk the fragile not-entirely-bad feelings that had for each other. You can’t avoid someone you never see, but it felt a bit like mutual avoidance after that.

Sandy had tugged on his pant leg and used his dream sand to depict Jamie sleeping and dreaming of snowball fights and Jack Frost himself. He had work to do. Sandy couldn't make any kids believe in him, but the dreams could do some nudging in that direction, and they needed a lot of ‘nudging’ after nearly every child stopped believing. The thought brought both trembling excitement and old bitterness so Jack just smiled and Sandy and said “Good to have you back” as if they were old friends or something. As if Jack had been a part of this band of odd spirits from the beginning. Some nights he followed a string of sand that nudged his face and found a golden image of himself dancing in the dream of another child. It was the most warmth he felt since the battle. 

Tooth needed to get all of her teeth boxes back to her palace, and Jack offered to help since Tooth didn’t look like she was going to bite his head off for it. Turns out only a transportation spell North had given her was needed. She gently gripped his arm and told him she was excited that he joined them before she left. Jack visited her palace a few times after that, but Tooth and her fairies were busy reorganizing the boxes and practically shedding feathers at the stress. Only a “Hi, Jack! Bye, Jack!” and a few chirps from Baby Tooth were his greeting. 

North offered his hospitality to Jack and ironically, a plate of cookies and warm glass of milk, but Jack declined. By then Jack figured he had exhausted his stay and left. Maybe he should have asked for a directions manual or something, now that he had this big title with no job description.

Overall, Jack respectively kept his distance, visiting every once in a while to convince himself it happened. But he knew his limits. If he tried to weasel his way into their lives again, it would no doubt end the same way it began, with him alone. They were nice and welcoming, but they were busy. There was potential that Jack _could_ be their friend. They didn’t hate him now. In fact, they _encouraged_ him to see them. Absolutely bizarre. It would take him a while to get used to that. Whoever heard of anyone wanting to spend time with Jack Frost? There was potential there, he knew it, he longed for it, he hoped for it, but was it worth it? 

Was it better to never have company, or to inevitably lose the people he clutched so desperately to? 

The question had plagued him since he sat on windowsills and watched parents read bedtime stories to their children, nestled in the warmth that can only come from the touch of a parent. Catching sight of the simple affection of a hand on a shoulder, a playful shove, a happy tackle. A brother and sister huddle under the blankets sharing stories of space and wonder, a child in the lap of a grandparent; he thought that this had to be the worst fate. To long for something he never had, never could have. Pitch got in one go, huh? 

But he was wrong. Jack didn’t long for a family anymore. He wasn’t alone. Three hundred years ago Jack would have given anything to be seen by a kid, welcomed into a hug by a parent, invited into a home. 

Then his memory box sat in his hands, and Jack knew that he didn’t have to mourn over something he could never have. He did have it. He had warmth and love and laughter. He once had a life where he was _never_ surrounded by silence. Could you even imagine? Laughter! Everywhere! So much laughter that it drowned out any unhappiness purely by its sound. Sometimes Jack had a hard time accepting that those memories were his. He spent so much time with only the wind to whisper in his ears, the thought that he once got _headaches_ from the noise made his chest ache with longing. 

It was worse. It was so much worse to lose something he loved rather than never have it. 

He had a family! He had a _sister_! He _saved_ her! 

And now, they were gone. 

He had nothing but his memories to keep him warm, and while those moments glowed in his chest, it filled him with an even greater longing that felt too futile to fill. And even the desire to fill that gap felt like some act of betrayal. All this time Jack wanted a family and he had one! The whole time! But they weren’t here anymore and that left him in a strange in-between stage of longing and loss. On one hand, now he didn’t have to stare through kitchen windows, watching billows of steam rise from the vegetables, and wishing, hoping that maybe this one, oh, maybe this family would be the one. He used to imagine to himself that families were the type of thing you could buy at a fancy store Jack didn’t have access to. In this store of close-knit bonds and shared stories, Jack would stroll down the aisle of participants, each able to see him, each wearing friendly smiles, and he would pick one. Instead of Jack taking his purchase home, _they_ would take _him_ home. Pretty great, right? Jack had dreamed that once and since then the bizarre dream stuck. Parents packaged like little dolls and extravagant homes shrunken down to playhouse size for convenience. Hah. Only now could Jack truly laugh at the strange dream without feeling the forcible yearning. 

While the relief of knowing his past had lifted from the intense loneliness momentarily, Jack was still alone. He didn’t have his family physically and that almost felt worse. No, Jack didn’t look through windows looking for families, he didn’t have dreams of buying families. It felt wrong now. Like someone had buried a dagger in his chest and once they had taken it out- nothing could fit back in that gaping wound. Before Jack remembered what a meal tasted like, he would stuff handfuls of snow into his mouth and munch on blades of grass. The cows were doing it so it couldn’t be harmful, right? (Wrong, very wrong) But when he had stolen a handful of strawberries from a field, no amount of snow could ever fill his stomach as the strawberries had. Missing his family was a little like that. Jack would have been okay, happy even with any cardboard cutout of a family or any company- before he knew what an actual family felt like. 

He was fine with the cold. 

Before he remembered _warmth._

His world was so much the same, and yet entirely different. While he was still alone, he had made potential friends. They didn’t fill the loneliness, but it helped to know that he could turn to someone in his moments of need. He had believers, though few, and he was no longer unseen. So much had changed in a short few days. His entire life was flipped on his axis. Jack just needed some time to sulk, get used to it, and figure out what to do with all this new change in his life. It was easy to fall back on the loneliness, a friendly reminder of something consistent, even if it was a fact hard to swallow. Jack knew he didn’t _have_ to be lonely anymore, but the thought of reaching out, of stretching out a hand to the people who were too kind to tell him to leave, was terrifying, and simply put: not enough. The Guardians weren’t strawberries, they weren’t the right dagger, they weren’t his family. They were handfuls of snow that would never satisfy. Though it was more than nothing, Jack knew he would become munching on ice would never satisfy him. 

Really, the only consistent thing was the Moon’s silence. North called him Manny, Bunny called him Tsar Lunar, Sandy signed a crescent moon, Tooth called him MiM, but Jack continued to call him simply as he was: The Moon. That was what he had always been to Jack. Not a person, not a guardian, not a celestial being, but a rock. A lifeless, silent, _bright_ rock. And he remained that way even after Jack was a guardian. 

Guardian. Jack laughed as he twirled his staff. It would be nice to know what the Guardian of Joy was supposed to do in the summer months, or in general. It didn’t help that Jack was fighting to keep his eyes open every month that passed. Even in the continents where it was always cold, Jack suppressed the urge to slouch against any tree and slip his eyes closed. His home had always been North America, it was where he was created, and when the warmer months came around, Jack wasn’t needed as much. It wasn’t his place. 

He may be mischief, but he had to follow basic weather patterns if he didn’t want Mother Nature coming after him. Naturally, he became slower and sluggish as summer came around. He didn’t hibernate completely as the simple winter spirits did, but Jack needed to sleep every night. Normally he could go months without sleeping, and Jack assumed that because of his boost in status he would be able to withstand summer. Except, his boost in status involved being powered by a handful of believers that he couldn’t play with during this season. The building in Russia, a cathedral probably, that he was leaning against was frozen over. Every time he jerked awake after nodding off, another layer of ice would coat the poor building. 

Jack stood and jostled himself awake. He needed to sleep. His little theory, or hope, had proved to be futile. It was time to close the case and call it a day. With a loud yawn and purposely exaggerated stretch (it wasn’t like there was anyone there to see him be dramatic anyway), he gripped his staff and took a few steps forward. 

His pity party, as some would call it, was coming to an end. Truly, Jack just needed to sort out the new changes in his life. Which was a hard thing to do for a spirit that was used to consistency. Although he was mischievous and used the element of surprise to contribute to that, Jack had expectations. Three hundred years of the same expectations and patterns and suddenly he’s thrown into saving the world? Yeah, he needed some time to process it. He could have ‘processed’ in a place he was familiar with, and with a spirit that could have helped him discuss it, but Jack needed to collect exactly why he was feeling out of sorts before he discussed it with his old friend. Now, he was pretty sure that he had done all of his thinking and could sleep on it before he tried to discuss it. His oldest and wisest friend would surely help him out and offer him a place to sleep. As he said, expectations. The Oak of Sorrows was part of those familiar constants Jack relied on. 

“Wind,” Jack lifted his head to tilt towards the sky. The wind brushed his cheek affectionately, “Take me home.”

He would lift off into the sky like a rocket if he had the strength. Instead, the wind plucked him up by the hood of his sweatshirt and tossed him into the sky. He spread out his limbs and let the air push him towards his destination. The rolling wind was fierce, but today it carried him gently, and Jack almost wished he could sleep on the puffs of air like this. But he knew that was too much of a burden to ask the restless and quick wind to constantly support him. The only place he truly trusted to sleep was at the base of his old friend's roots, curled against his trunk. 

Burgess came into view, the glistening of his pond, now melting and lapping at the sides of the grass. Instead of dropping him down on the surface like the wind would have done in the winter, she flew him past the pond and towards the forest.

Jack rubbed at his eyes and he felt the grass beneath his feet. He yawned through speaking, “Hey, Oaky. I’m home-“

As he opened his eyes, his breath stuck in his throat, like a piece of ice wedging itself through the skin of his neck. There, the Oak Of Sorrows, that once magnificent tree, was uprooted and lying on his side, only a few strong roots attached into the ground. 

“Oak!”Jack cried, suddenly more awake than he had been all season, “What happened?”

The face of the ancient tree was gnarled and old. His eyes were knotted shut as tears slipped out of the creases and dipped onto the ground in big and round drops of water. His gaping mouth was open still but tilted into an open-mouthed frown- sob shaped lips. Jack's fingers trembled as he placed a hand on his friend's face. His hand looked small enough to be a butterfly resting on the towering tree. 

“Jack,” He croaked and opened his eyes of deep sadness. They were two pools of black that should have been disturbing, but Jack found their depth comforting. Jack had never seen the Oak with his eyes fully open- though he knew they were about the size of Jack’s head whole- because he was always tired, and he almost looked as if he bore the weight of the world on his gnarled eyebrows, “Where were you?”

The tone was almost accusatory and Jack’s fear increased tenfold. It was like Easter all over again. _Jack, where were you?_ Rang through his ears, _Jack, where were you?_ Always where he shouldn’t be. Always in the wrong. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Always on accident. 

“I’m sorry!”Jack spoke no louder than a whisper, as he was afraid his voice would creak and break them both, “I didn’t mean- who did this? Why didn’t you call for me? I was with the Guardians- I’m sorry-“

A hint of sorrow eased from the old tree's face, “Yes. You are where you belong now, yes? Good. Good. The Guardians have chosen wisely to accept you.”

Jack blinked back tears at the assumption that the Oak of Sorrow made without a hint of uncertainty as if he had never doubted that Jack would be worthy of that title, “Yeah. Yeah. I’m a guardian now. Of joy. Of all things. It’s probably because you took away my sorrow every year, huh?”

“You have a lot held within you now,” Oak said, tears never-ending and sinking into the earth until they turned the patch of green grass brown, “I am sorry I can’t take them away from you.”

Jack swallowed, “I didn’t- I don’t. That’s not important. What’s important is figuring out how to help you.”

“You came here for sleep and shelter, didn’t you?” The Oak moaned as if another wave of sadness crashed over him. His body of bark shuddered with the noise and the few leaves clinging to the long twirling vines of his branches shook off with a rustle. Jack heard the cries of the fallen leaves echoing in his mind, “I cannot provide you any shelter any longer. Please, forgive me.”

Jack bit in frustration and panic, “You’re not important just because of that! You’re important because you're my friend! You’re! You’re my home.” 

The Oak of Sorrows was the first being who treated him with unwavering kindness. He was the first sign of shelter in the cruel cold world that Jack was beginning to grow accustomed to, and the first friend who listened to his jokes and kept him company when he had no more than his staff to chatter mindlessly to. The Oak of Sorrows always took away Jack’s sadness, without hesitation, without Jack even asking. He was more than just a dumping ground, though that was what most creatures came to see him as. He was someone that Jack would do anything for. How could he be anything but selfless towards the only being who treated him like he was worthy of being seen and heard?

“Alas. The Nightmare King and his shadows overcame me. Their wave of darkness was too much for me to withstand,” The Oak of Sorrows sank with self-deprivation, “Maybe if I were younger. Maybe if I were stronger. Maybe if I had not taken so much sorrow into me. But how can one stop those things? I am no immortal. I am no Guardian of Joy. I am merely a vessel, and my purpose is complete.”

“ _Pitch_ did this. Of course, he did. He knew how important you were to me,” Jack snarled, lips curled with anger, but his eyes grew wide and regretful as he registered the rest of the tree’s words, “ ‘A vessel’? Oaky, you’re not- I never saw you as just a vessel. Have I- have I ever made you feel like that?”

“No, my boy. It was an honor to be your friend,” Oak began to close his eyes, “You have been my home as well. The only one who stayed with me all those years. But even through your devotion, I knew that you were destined for greater things than to keep an old tree alive.”

“No!” Jack shouted, “No! I’m not just going to let you die,” His voice trembled and cracked like thin ice, “I’m going to get help. I’ll bring someone who can fix this. I won’t- I won’t lose you too.”

“Jack…” He whispered, “Don’t…”

He shot into the sky and ice splintered from his feet as angry webs as the wind propelled him forwards. The wind matched his urgency and fed off his building panic and shame. He did this. Jack did this. Not Pitch. If Jack had come home sooner, if he gave in to sleep sooner, if he didn’t waste time sulking in his past and loneliness, he would have a family to come back to. Now, that family was nearly gone. Oak was hanging on the last shreds of survival, Jack knew. He probably waited, simply waiting, for Jack to come back, while he was off doing who knows what. All this time, in pain, in need, and Jack _wasn’t there when he needed him_. His breathing increased to heaving gulps of fresh air, but somehow the rush and sting of wind against his eyes only made it worse. 

_Why_ was he like this? How could he let this happen? All he had to do was come home and then he could have helped Oak sooner. What if it was too late now? What if he died before Jack came back? The thought nearly had him turning around, and the wind had to gently coax him into moving again before the panic pushed him to dive back down to the forest. 

“North!” Jack hollered at the door, the North Pole ice was slightly more biting than normal due to his panic. He was dimly aware that there were small flurries around his head, “North!”

The door opened, “Jack?” Yetis surrounded the confounded large man, who normally left answering doors to his workmen. The wind raged around him, picking up snow and tossing it all around him and into the workshop. North’s wide eyes flickered to the storm raging behind him. 

“I need to see Bunny,” Jack gripped the edges of his staff, turning it blue, “I need to see him _now_.” 

North tried, “What-“

“North, now,” Jack resisted the urge to pin North at the edge of his staff in a threat, “I don’t have time to explain! I’m already too late! If I- I can’t- I need-“

North placed two hands on the anxious boy's shoulders, they were warm, and they startled Jack out of his spiraling anxiety, “Alright. Alright. I will get Bunny. Through snow globe. Just wait.”

He tossed a glowing orb from his robes and the portal opened with a thudding bass to shake the ground. As soon as North stepped through the swirling mist that looked vaguely more green than normal portals, Jack dropped to the floor in a crouch. He wrapped his hands around his head and let his staff sink into the crock of his arm. Frost spread in every direction from his toes and the Yeti’s garbled their exclamations and stepped back. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Oak, fallen on his side as if the weight of all the sorrows he borrowed had tipped him over like a tea kettle. The image of those great big tears rolling down his bark as if they were filled with all the sadness trapped inside his gnarled and twisted branches and roots. The thought of never hearing Oaky’s long drone of a voice, deep and laced with sadness, but also strongly comforting. Jack thought of never swinging on those long vines around Oaky’s head, of never hearing the chatter of the leaves that were filled with more wisdom any leaves ought to have, of never falling asleep in the crook of two arm-like branches, of never seeing the twinkle in Oaky’s eyes when the first snowfall touched the tip of the old tree’s nose. Worse than anything, Jack would lose their conversations, hours long and filled with inside jokes that only friends of two hundred and sixty-three years can understand, but mostly, Jack would lose the shared despair between them. He was the type of being who understood everything. He never dismissed your sadness, taking it in as you spoke, never once interrupting, never once growing tired of the same hurt repeated and retold. The Oak of sorrows understood sadness, and he knew just how to comfort the most depressed souls. Jack shared everything with him, and though the Oak never shared all of his sorrows with him, Jack knew he understood the tree better than any creature had ever bothered to learn. To them, he was merely a kind soul willing to listen and help, but Jack knew he was more than that. He saw the crack in his bark and the shudder of his leaves every time he took on more sadness than his large frame could keep. The Oak of Sorrows was a tree of size otherworldly, but he wasn’t big enough to store the world's sadness alone. The world deposited it anyway like he was a charity dumping ground. And Oaky took it. Every time. So much Sorrow was packed into every fiber in that tree, Jack feared he would burst from it and his large open mouth would fill up with more than just the darkness of the pit. In reality, the Oak of Sorrows merely fell to the ground, too heavy with everyone else’s baggage to stand. 

A grumpy voice cut through the harsh, quick breaths Jack was making, “Alright, what sort of trouble did you make now, mate?”

Jack looked up, hands still around his head, his eyes crystal, nearly overflowing. They stared at each other, the scowl on Bunny’s face shifting to shock as his furred eyebrows rose and his nose twitched. 

“Jack…?”

He stood suddenly, zipping on the air to hover near Bunny’s face, “Can you heal trees?”

“Tress, mate?” Bunny repeated, looking at him with a face that only spiked Jack’s anger. He thought he was _stupid_. Bunny always thought Jack was stupid, and if he didn’t take him seriously, then the Oak of Sorrows wouldn’t get help, and if the Oak of Sorrows didn’t get help he-

Jack pushed the crook of his staff up against Bunny’s neck, not too firmly to hurt, but hard enough to wipe away condescending glint in the whites of his eyes, “You're the Guardian of life, aren’t you? Can you heal trees or _not_?” He had seen it, hadn’t he? The weird little flower thing he did when a tunnel closed. If he sprouted flowers then surely he had some power over their growth? 

“Aye. I fix them. Does me being able to heal trees warrant having your staff up in me face?” Bunny’s eyes narrowed at the weapon, but he didn’t shove back though Jack knew he could if he wanted to. Jack stepped back if only to get Bunny to agree easier, and his glowing staff dipped close to the ground. He could hear Bunny’s quiet grumble of, “Ever heard of personal space?” as he brushed off his fur. 

“He- He is uprooted, but still alive. He’s…” Jack’s voice broke and dropped into a whisper, “He’s dying. I need your help.”

Bunny blinked, “Alright. Where to, Frostbite?” Just like that, he believed him. If Jack had the time, he would have started in shock at the worry flickering over Bunny’s face. _We’re not friends_ , He reminded himself firmly, _we’re not_ _friends._ But Bunny was a good person despite the harsh words and apathetic character- Jack knew that. He could help.

Jack murmured ‘Burgess’ and a tunnel formed underneath them. Normally Jack would whoop and holler at the exciting twists and turns, but he was focusing too much on how to breathe normally to waste breath on exclamations. 

“Hurry,” Jack whispered, and Bunny’s long ears twitched backward, indicating he had heard. Maybe under less dire circumstances, Bunny would take it as a challenge. All he did was bolt faster, not as fast as Jack was urging him, but almost. 

As soon as the summer air greeted him, Jack shot off towards his tree a cry on his lips, “Oak!”

_Please don’t be dead_ , Jack prayed, _Please don’t be dead_. 

He crumpled to his knees in front of the old tree’s face and whispered, “Oak! I brought help. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be just fine. He’s- He’s the Guardian of Life. He can fix you.”

“Oh, my dear Jack,” The tree's mouth was closed, and that in itself made Jack sink further to the Earth. The Oak of Sorrows always had his mouth open, gaping wide enough to catch all of the bleeding sorrows that seeped from people and spirits alike. The only time Jack ever saw it closed was the temporary purse of lips to create a sound. He didn’t want to think about what it meant, “My time has come to a close. There is nothing you or your friend can do.”

Those words made him even angrier. At what, he didn’t know. He could be mad at the fact that the Oak was dying, that Oak was accepting it, that Bunny couldn’t help, that Oak called Bunny his friend, that he was so lonely in the first place, that he had to say goodbye to his oldest friend, his _only_ friend for so long. 

“No!” Growing from the large and burled trunk, a branch was narrowed at its tips and small enough that Jack could wrap his hand around it. The narrowed branch brushed the underside of his cheek, and Jack’s anger seeped out of him enough to allow him to weakly grip the caressing branch in his hand, “I promised I’d help you. I can’t just let you- you’re not- _please_ -“

The Oak of Sorrows interrupted for the first time in his life, “Jack. Look at me.”

Sniffling, he brought his eyes to meet the gaping black holes of sadness that were the tree's eyes. They were wide, and they seemed to pierce him in place. Centuries of pain swirling in the dark depths of his eyes left Jack’s pleas dead on his lips. He wondered if the tree was ever a normal tree. He wondered if the Oak of Sorrows began in his own Sorrows, or if his sorrows consisted of the weight of others since the beginning. He wondered if depending so heavily on Oaky had kept him here longer than he would have liked to stay. “ I am old, and I am tired. My trunk is full of Sorrows, and I have no room left. My body is spent as is my heart. It is too full of sadness and I...I can go on no longer.”

“But I-“ Jack curled up to the trunk and felt the tremble of Oaky’s breaths reverberate through his smaller body. Every season he fell asleep like this: smooth and gnarled bark under his skin, a shuddering breath to keep him half-awake and shake half of the leaves off with it, a branch covering his shoulders, “I don’t want you to go yet. I have so much to tell you.”

His thick lips twitched up just barely before they dropped, “The only joy in my heart comes from you, little winter sprout. Tell me of your tales so that this old oak may pass into this world with happiness in his heart.”

Jack couldn’t stop the sob from his mouth, a hiccuping noise, dry and tearing through his chest. He wanted to joke and mock roll his eyes at the nickname but instead, he trembled at the sound and wondered if he’d ever be called a ‘little winter sprout’ again. No tears fell from his eyes. Jack could not remember the last he shed a tear, but his eyes were crystal with unshed ones. Instead, the sorrow carved out of his chest in a sob, and Jack wondered if he was made of wood too and if he had a gaping hole in his trunk where the noise originated. 

“You are the Guardian of Joy, yes?” 

Jack nodded and gestured with his head to Bunny. He almost forgot he was there. Bunny himself was crouching in the glass on his hunches torn between leaving them in privacy and staying to help, “And he’s the Guardian of Life. He could heal you. Make it so you don’t have to bear anyone’s sadness anymore.” 

“I have never wished to die,” The tree said thoughtfully, “but as I lay on my side, I realize that I have no desire to stand once again. Let me lie here and let me rest. I have not slept yet in my lifetime, will you protect me, Guardian, and tell me a bedtime story?” 

Jack froze and the world around him shrank. It was just him and Oak like it had always been, in the great big world. And right then, it wasn’t three hundred years of formed trust, but the first moment Jack laid eyes on the old tree, the first moment he felt safe.

_“Oh, you’re an old fella, aren’t you?” Jack had said, as he swirled around the tree, jostling the leaves as he did so._

_“Perhaps you may be older,” The Oak had said, “But you look young and tired. Come rest at my roots, and I shall protect you and tell you a bedtime story.”_

Jack hiccuped again and nodded his head, “I’ll tell you a bedtime story. Of my family. I have a family, you know that?”

His voice rumbled, and Jack felt the vibrations on his cheek, “Oh, that is wonderful news.”

“It is,” Jack sucked in a shaky breath, “and they were wonderful. I don’t remember much. But I do remember that we’re always laughing. Always. So much that Mom had to tell us to be quieter. “

Oak sighed, “You were surrounded in the opposite of silence.” He knew of Jack’s distaste for the quiet. He knew everything. 

Jack let out a laugh, sad and miserable compared to the ones in his memories, “And I was always playing with the village kids. I would hide in the trees and make faces at them. And I would tell them stories, I don’t know what they were- but they would always laugh.”

“You are good at making people laugh,” The Tree murmured, his eyes slipping closed. Though his wide eyes had scared Jack, he would stare at them forever if he meant that the Oak of Sorrows would stay awake, just for a little while longer. 

“And- and,” Jack stuttered and sat up a bit frantically as the tree gave a breathy shutter, “And I’m good at saving people too. I saved my sister. She laughed while I did it.”

“You are good at saving others,” A smile formed on the Oak of Sorrows lips and it spread wider and wider; happy. His full lips looked strange pressed together, and the carved wood seemed to crack and resist the foreign expression. Oaky kept smiling anyway, “You have saved me too, Jack.”

“But I never made you laugh.”

“Perhaps not,” The tears stopped flowing, now only the wet stains on bark were left as every bit of borrowed Sorrow had left the good tree, “But you made me smile. I have never smiled before.”

Jack whispered, “I can save you. Please.”

“You have, Jack,” The Oak, empty of his Sorrows responded, “You have.”

It was unclear how long Jack spent, curled up next to the tree, the wet bark brushing against his face. For some time he fell asleep, but it was the sleep of exhaustion and depression; a type of sleep that Jack had never experienced next to his tree of protection and contentment. But it wasn’t his tree anymore. It wasn’t Oaky. It was just wood, empty of sorrows, empty of a soul, empty of comfort and warmth. It was cold to touch now, as Jack’s frost curled over the tree, coating it in a thin form of protection. When the summer sun melted it, maybe the water could wash him clean. Jack’s heaviness lightened slightly at that. 

“Jack,” Bunny said, his face somber, “Jack.”

“What?” He croaked. 

Two hops forwards, Jack could hear the sound of his heavy paws, but he didn’t look up from where he was gazing mindlessly at the frost that curled around a blade of brown grass.

“You can’t stay here, mate. Let’s get you back to North’s workshop. He has a nice guest room for you there,” Bunny was being abnormally kind, but Jack assumed that after seeing a loved one… die, he would be kinder than normal. It would be rude to yell at a mourning person. That was the only reason. 

“I have to protect him,” Jack said.

Bunny sighed, annoyance maybe? Or pity. “You know that’s not what he meant, Frostbite.”

Jack didn’t dare blink even as the air stung his eyes, “ It was always so hard to tell what he meant. He was so good at listening, he forgot how to express himself.”

“I’m sorry, mate,” Some shuffling and Bunny sat down near him, a few branches back, and Jack was glad for the distance, “He seemed like a good tree.”

“He was good,” Jack murmured and closed his eyes, “Even though he had so much sorrow. The world’s Sorrow. He had everybody’s, you know. Everybody’s pain. Even yours.”

“Mine?” Bunny jerked, “How?”

“When you have too much sadness, it escapes you. Through your tears or sometimes it just leaks out of you without you even knowing it. But usually, it always comes back when you least expect it. Oaky- The, ah, Oak of Sorrows, he was like a magnet for those escaping sorrows. He collected everyone’s so they wouldn’t float back to people. And he listened to anyone who would tell him of their woes. It was crazy. So many people would come, spirits too, and just pour their whole life stories out to him. And he just took it. All of it. He just understood. He cared and he wanted to take that sadness away.”

Bunny frowned, “But you can’t take away all of it.”

“No,” Jack frowned, “The sadness escaped from him too. Out of his leaves, or the cracks in his bark. Little bits would come back to you, but he could keep most of it.”

“So when he was crying there, did all the sadness go back to where it came from?”

Jack looked at the puddle of dirt that was slightly damp, around it the blades of grass were starting to turn brown, forming a small ring around it, “It went into the Earth. Mother Nature created him. She will accept his collection into the ground. He could have let it all go back to them, you know, and then he wouldn’t have died. But he didn’t. He kept it all. He didn’t want me to- to-“ _have back my sorrow._

He didn’t bother finishing. His words were gone, dissolving into shame and grief. The most sadness that the tree took on was Jack’s. Jack never meant for it to be that way. The Oak told him that he wanted it, that he could handle it, and it was just so inviting. The sadness was locked inside him and to have someone willing to listen and comfort was a luxury Jack never had. He never meant for it to come to this. He never meant for it to come to his friend so heavy with sorrow he could barely find the will to stand. 

“It’s not your fault,” Bunny said, “ I know you think it is.”

“Isn’t it?” Jack said bitterly, “ I should have, I should have _done_ something. I’m always too late.”

“Nay, mate,” He said, shifting up to a crouch again, “You weren’t the one to knock him over.”

Jack let out a ring of frost around him, sparkling and dancing across every surface it came into contact with, “But I was the one to keep him there. _My_ sadness weighed him down.” 

It was broken. His pride, the image that he wanted to keep up around Bunny and everyone. That he was untouchable. Just a brat with snowballs and icicles and an annoying laugh. Jack Frost didn’t care. Jack Frost didn’t cry. Jack Frost didn’t have so much sadness that he killed his only friend with it. _Well_ , He thought bitterly, _cats out of the bag now._ Bunny was seeing Jack completely bare and broken and vulnerable; he supposed it was some tormented version of payback. He had seen Bunny, after all, hurt and angry and without hope. He even saw him as smaller than basketball with short ears and entirely fluff. 

Bunny stood now, his paws crunching over the frost, “I said, _Nay_ , mate. It looked like to me that you were the one to make him smile, not keep him down.”

Jack sniffled in response. 

“Alright, sniffles,” Bunny said with his voice as gentle as it was when Bunny was playing with Sophie in his Warren. Gentle was an odd word to describe him as. Jack narrowed his eyebrows in resistance, “It’s time to let him rest, ta?”

He held out a hand and though Jack wished nothing more for him to go away and leave him to frost over the entire forest, Bunny was showing him kindness and holding out his hand. Jack knew he didn’t have it in him to reject it. 

“Let’s get you ta bed,” Bunny tapped the ground a few times, and Jack pulled his hood over his head, hating the way his eyes were permanently glossy and almost see-through, “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Don’t sound so smug,” Jack mumbled, “Do bunnies not sleep?”

Bunny's left ear twitched, the one that indicated annoyance. Jack wondered what he would do this time in response to Jack's habit of annoying every creature he came in contact with. Though, to his surprise, Bunny only quipped, “Less than winter sprites.”

When they got to North’s workshop, one of the yetis, Phill, escorted Jack to the guest room. Jack took one look at North, bustling in worry and pent up energy, and felt dread sink into him. Bunny, surprisingly, came to his rescue and told North the gist of it and asked one of the yetis to walk Jack to his room. He sat on the warm bed, unfamiliar with fluffy surfaces after leaning against only a gnarled trunk for so long.

Jack frowned and the lip that turned down started to tremble. He bit out a grumbling, whining, crying, noise that displayed his frustration at himself and pain that he felt creeping out of him. The noise hurt, and Jack rolled into the covers to block his mouth. The sounds of the workshop buzzed around Jack so he couldn’t sleep as he sobbed. Not with the noise, not with the quiet. Jack couldn’t sleep without his friend. Jack couldn’t sleep alone. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s birth  
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL-- 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR  
> 1 SOLANN-- The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE-- 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK. 
> 
> The Oak of Sorrows is one of my absolute favorite characters. He reminds me of my best friend. I also thought it would take a little bit of time for Jack to be completely comfortable aroud the Gaurdians and vice versa.


	3. Circles of Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There can be no better canvas for his masterful artworks, as the egg is considered the holiest and most beautiful of shapes to his people, representing new life, restoration, growth, and rebirth.”
> 
> Growth for Aster and even a little bit of new beginnings for Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting now I will be posting every week :) 
> 
> A source of inspiration:   
> https://waningdaylight.tumblr.com/post/159742867325/e-aster-bunnymund-is-an-ancient-creature-known-as

  
**1000 CYCL BMIM**   
**E. Aster Bunnymund: age 0 CYCL, 6 solannos, and 2 phases**

  
“This is your hatchling egg, Easter,” The richer voice said. Now, the kit had his sight to match his sense of light, and he was disappointed to find that when the world grew from black to blurry, his lights were harder to see. They were still there of course, but the sight from his eyes layered over the bright balls of light and gave everyone a soft glow around their bodies. Buca had a green aura, the same shade as the succulents that sat on their windowsills and the plants that grew in the field. Doa had a purple aura that danced around her face and seemed to beam directly out of her purple eyes. Aster had discovered that the lights went back to normal when he closed his eyes, and he did that now just to reassure himself of the deep blue at Buca’s center was still there. 

“Egg!” The kit repeated and cupped the shell gently. He didn’t understand what it was or what they were doing, but he liked it when his Buca spoke to him, and Buca liked it when Aster repeated what he said. They _loved_ it when Aster repeated the word ‘Buca’ and ‘Doa’ and Aster decided he loved it when they said ‘Aster’ too. That was him. That was his light. 

Buca set him down, and Aster sat on his hunches as he watched Buca take the eggshells that were cupped in his big hands and move several paces down the hall. Once he set the small fractured pieces down on the soft dirt floor, Buca stayed there and smiled. The small pooka tilted his head to the side and quickly measured the distance between himself and Buca. He did not like what he found, but fortunately, Aster knew how to fix it. With outstretched arms, grabbing hands, and a small low whine, Aster indicated his distress. Usually, when he made that signal, his parents would pick him up and cradle him to their chest. 

“You can do it,” Buca said, instead, “Come on, Aster!”

“ome!” Aster grinned, yes that was it! He wanted them to come back to him. 

Buca chuckled, “No, Aster, _you_ come. Come to me. You can do it!”

“Why?” He tilted his head again and repeated his favorite word- and his parent's least favorite word, “Why go?”

Next to his side, he felt the warmth of Doa’s light before he saw her. She reached down to take his arms, and Aster smiled in self-satisfaction when he realized she was going to pick him up. Instead, she only lifted him until he was stretched to stand taller and then let go of his paws. He stumbled in surprise and looked up at her with wide eyes, “It’s okay, kit, walk.”

Their voices were bright and eager, and Aster puzzled over the unfamiliar words. He searched for the meaning until he saw Buca’s two paws shuffle across the floor as he came towards Aster. Walking was something his parents did often and until then, Aster hadn’t thought to mimic them. He already learned to hop instead of crawl and shuffle. Hopping was easy with his short front paws and naturally curled hind legs. As he grew though, Aster found himself stretching upwards to balance on his growing hind legs instead of continuing in four paws. Buca stopped a few feet from the kit and Aster took an uncertain step towards the green light, “That's it.”

His fingers were so close to touching Buca’s, and Aster realized with dismay that he would have to take another step to reach him. One wobbly foot after another, Aster took his first steps, chasing his Buca until he collapsed into his arms giggling along with the delighted laughter. He wrapped his small arms around Buca’s neck and glanced over his shoulder to see his hatchling egg sitting proudly on the ground; the shell swirled with green and blue- like Buca’s light, and purple and yellow- like Doa’s. 

Buca’s light was glowing so much that Aster could feel the heat of its glow on his cheek as he rubbed against Buca’s chest that exhaled softly. He crouched down on his hind legs to bring Aster closer to his hatchling egg and looked up at Doa with a smile, “He did it. His first test.”

Bumping her forehead against his and Aster’s, Doa grinned and said, “And he passed it with flying colors.”

Well, Aster smiled proudly, that must be a good thing. He loved colors. 

“Do you know why this is important, Aster?” Buca said with a serious voice. It was always gentle, but it held an authority that made Aster know to tilt up his head to meet Buca’s eyes. Sometimes Doa would respond to his serious tone with serious eyes. Aster didn’t know how eyes could grow quiet, but Doa’s eyes did when Buca used his serious voice. This time, though, Doa rolled her eyes with a soft smile, and Aster knew nothing was wrong. It couldn’t be if his Doa was smiling. 

Aster shook his head, wondering if he should know, but Buca seemed to anticipate this and gestured with his free paw to the egg shape, “This used to be an egg. An egg that held you.”

Setting Aster down, Buca began to pick up the shells of the colorful egg and reposition them as if they were puzzle pieces. Doa helped and together the broken pieces formed the shape of an egg- a familiar shape he had seen decorated around his home. 

“An egg,” Buca whispered, “Is the holiest and most beautiful shape.”

With her thumb, Doa stroked the egg she held together and said, “It represents new life, Aster. _Your_ new life, and your growth.”

Here, his parents shared a look of serious eyes and serious voices. Buca said to his Doe, “Rebirth for us, too.”

“Yes,” Doa looked back down, not holding their shared gaze for long, “That too.”

She shifted, and the egg piece she was holding splintered out of its repositioned shape, and all of the pieces connected to it mirrored that effect. With finality, the pieces clattered to the ground and another shattered piece was formed with the pressure. Doa flinched and went to scoop up the fractured pieces with a hurried regret. As Buca stopped her with a gentle hand, his fingers curled around Doa’s trembling ones and pulled them away from the shells. 

“They’re just shells, Ahua,” Buca whispered, “What really matters is right here.”

Gently, Buca scooped Aster back off of the ground and put him in Doa’s kneeling lap. Aster didn’t protest and quickly adjusted to cuddling Doa and burrowing his nose into her fur, searching for warmth as he did when he was a younger kit. He was grown enough to eat food that was almost like his parents, but the gesture was familiar and warm. Doa seemed to appreciate it and loosely cupped the back of Aster’s head as if she was refraining from gripping him tightly. With gentle claw-tipped fingers, she brushed the base of Aster’s long ears. Then she swept the bottom of her chin against his head in a soothing motion- chinning. It seemed to calm them both and the rapid heartbeat under Doa’s chest slowed. 

“Hani egg?” Aster mumbled, half asleep, “Hani?”

Doa’s breath shuttered, and the shaky vibrations shook against Aster, “He will walk to his hatching egg too after he wakes up. It’s important to walk to your hatchling egg on their own.”

Aster frowned. He didn’t like to do things alone, especially without his twin brother, “Why?”

A sigh was followed by his question, but it did nothing to discourage his curiosity, “Well, every kit does it. Even your Buca and I took our first steps to our hatching eggs. It shows your growth. You once clawed your way out of your hatchling egg and now you’ve walked back to it. A full circle of growth.” 

The kit was silent and his eyebrows sat low on his forehead as he pondered her words. Aster, even from a young age, was contemplative. Doa stroked the furrowed brow in his expression and smiled when it relaxed under her touch. 

“Can I see?” Aster finally asked, “See Hani walk?”

If it was so important, Aster thought, then he must see his brother complete ‘a full circle of growth’. He also wanted to see what colors decorated Hani’s egg compared to his own. What did Doa’s and Buca’s eggs look like? Did they keep the broken pieces? Aster’s egg was now in smaller pieces than before, but he didn’t mind. It was supposed to be broken, wasn’t it? 

Doa hummed, “Sure, kit. You can watch. I bet Hani would like that.” 

Soon Buca came back, carrying a drowsy Hani in his arms. In his waking moments, Hani squinted at Aster, confused that they were not together. Normally, they did everything together. It was easier for their parents that way and more comfortable. Aster knew for a certainty that Hani would be there when he woke up, at the table when he ate, and right behind his tail as they hopped through the fields. 

They set up the process just as they had with Aster- this time Doa was in front of Hani, and Buca and Aster were at the end of the hall and positioned around Hani’s hatchling egg. At first, Aster thought they were going to use Aster’s egg for Hani, or they mixed them up, but he realized after carefully studying it, that their eggs were nearly identical. A green swirl of color wrapped around the outer shell of Hani’s egg in the same way a purple swirl curled around Aster’s. Unlike Aster, Hani didn’t ask questions or whine when they left his side. He sat, frozen on his hunches with a confused and slightly hurt look on his face. Aster could see the unvoiced question on his face: Why is everyone over there, and I’m all alone over here? 

“‘Come on, Hani!” Aster said, hating the uncertain flicker of his brother’s light, “Walk!”

His words were still slow to form compared to his parents and the beginning consonants of the word were mushed together sometimes. Hani understood anyway and took an uncertain step forward, after looking at Doa for reassurance. As if to hurry him along, Aster reached out his short arms and gestured with his hands. 

Buca gently scolded, “Don’t rush him, Aster. He can do it.” 

Hani’s first stumble, Aster wanted to hop over and nudge him with his head, but Buca paced a hand on his shoulder. Buca was quiet in his support as he kept his smile constant and encouraging, murmuring gentle reassurances whenever Hani cast an uncertain look between them. On the other hand, Aster was much louder in his chirps of support and repeating the words Doa spoke with more enthusiasm. As Hani reached out his hands, Doa would reach back and encourage him to go one step further. When Hani took his final step, much more confident than the first, Doa scooped them all up with a cheerful exclamation- even Buca- and held them close. Hani’s smile beamed on his face so wide that it was infectious and Aster laughed along with the surprised laughter that bubbled out of Buca. 

“Ahua!” Buca exclaimed, too happy to sound embarrassed. His feet weren’t even touching the ground. 

“My amazing kits!” She twirled them around back and forth with careless glee and effortless strength, “I am so proud of you!” 

Hani was squished between both Aster and Buca who was trying his best not to add to the crushing. With little arms, Hani clung to her neck even as she released them and she had to gently peel off his fingers. An arm around Buca’s waist remained and they shared a look that held the same weight as serious eyes but something much brighter and happier. Aster closed his eyes in his laughter and gazed at the almost blinding light that Buca and Doa gave off. Aster noticed that some lights grew brighter as they neared other Pooka as if the brightness of one light influenced them to match their glow. Buca and Doa were like that. Just the simple action of laughter and a meaningful exchange lit up the room with the light they shared for each other. 

Hani and he were a bit like that, except their lights were the exact same. While the green flickers of light from Buca seemed to intermingle with Doa's purple flowering glow, Aster and Hani’s light were the same colors. They were pure white and light that flowed from their centers like brilliant balls of energy. Together, the luminosity increased tenfold compared to when they were apart. It was as if the light knew it had been split down the middle and, to make up for it, pushed them into the same orbit. 

* * *

**Summer of 2012, end of August**

  
Two steps. Light Footfall. Equally balanced and almost cushioned to muffle the weight. The subtle sound of scratching dirt, moving too quickly and unnaturally to make a recognizable sound. Jack recognized it. It was the same sound he heard for the past few months every week. 

“Bunny!” North’s joyous greeting was laced with the same amount of joy and amusement that it came with every week, if a little more annoyed every time. 

He tilted his head to the side and the cool wood met his skin. Minutely he shifted his toes to adjust his balance on the tall rafter above them, “Back so soon?” Jack mouthed with no sound.

“Back so soon?” North asked with a smug expression written in the upturned curve of his eyebrows. 

Here- Bunny rolled his eyes and his ears would shift just so to the left- yup, and a nose wrinkle. Jack shook his head. Cottontail was way more readable than he let on. Over the past few weeks, Jack had been able to find some patterns in this one-sided game he liked to play. It started when Jack heard chatter outside his room, rousing him from a sleepless rest and he only had seconds to pretend to still be sleeping before he heard the door open. When they finally left that over spacious spare room Jack had been holding himself in for a few weeks, he had assumed that would be the end of it. Jack had been sleeping for a few weeks by then with little disturbances. He ventured down to the hall once, hunger making him move despite every limb telling him to fall to the floor. North was surprisingly quiet and welcoming, though he did startle fiercely when he saw Jack stumble down the stairs. He always woke to warm meals and the muffled sound of the bustling workshop. 

Jack thought about leaving. He thought about escaping through the window instead of leaving out the front door as if he were some sort of caged animal and not a guest that had exhausted his stay. He thought about going to Burgess, hot and humid. He thought about his lake, unfrozen and liquid, dangerous. He thought about a decaying tree. He thought about bugs and mushrooms.

He stayed in the spare room. 

He didn’t sleep. 

Sometimes he rolled around in the bed, trying and failing to find a comfortable way to spread his gangly limbs over the king-sized mattress. When the twisted blankets grew too frustrating, Jack would zip to the windowsill and curl up to the pane glass. Waking up to pins and needles in his behind and a crook in his neck, was almost more comfortable. For years, he dreamt of a warm bed and a room to call his own, and now that he had a fraction of that- he didn’t want it. Most days he let the bone-deep exhaustion and grief bare down on him like the weight of humid summer air. Even at the North Pole, Jack felt the lethargy and wondered if it was purely because it was the summer season in North America. Sleeping and staying in one place were two things Jack never saw himself doing. He never stayed in one place for too long. Even during the summer months, Jack would flit through the world by day and sink into the soft soil by Oaky’s roots by night. Staying inside buildings and any enclosed place made him twitch with built-up energy. As a kid, Jack always had trouble staying still during church, and as a 300-year-old teenager-ish, that fact remained the same. He stayed in the room anyway. This summer was different and Jack was no fool as to why. 

If he left the workshop, he would have to face the fact that he _truly_ had no stationary place to go back to- or even a person. North was sort of really awesome in a way that still made Jack feel that kid-like excitement when he was around the jolly guy. His home was more hospitable than any other house he had been invited to (a grand total of three) but it wasn’t his home. North wasn’t home, no matter how kind and generous the man was. Jack wondered if that made him ungrateful and he wondered if North’s generosity had a limit. He kept their conversations and interactions to a minimum, and only allowed himself to venture downstairs when he was eating his food- and when Bunny decided to show up. 

After the initial surprise, Jack assumed Bunny was just doing a routine check; he would make sure Jack didn’t die of depression or cry his eyes out like he so embarrassingly had done _in front_ of Bunny, and then he would hop back to his Warren, check off that box, and continue to only show up when North forcibly dragged each of them back for some sporadic hangout. 

But then Bunny came back. Every week. And it was driving him _crazy_ not knowing why. It went the same way every time, and it had been happening for three months. He assumed that Bunny wouldn’t leave his hole for more than an hour tops- admittedly, the visits were short- but the grand total of times he had visited amounted to a lot of lost time for him to be working and preparing for Easter. Not that Jack cared. He was just a little bit curious. Surely, Bunny didn’t visit so frequently before. And surely- it had nothing to do with Jack being here. They never talked. Usually, Jack would perch in the rafters right above them, eavesdropping was a bit of a bad habit he developed from being unseen for hundreds of years, and he would listen to the chat. 

The tail end of their small chat was coming to a close currently, “Production is going steady then. Good. Can’t mess up Chrissie this year, mate.”

“Yes, I know, I know, because Christmas is more important than Easter,” Bunny bristled and nearly shot over the table at the casual remark, but North continued before he could get the shout of indignation out of his mouth, “But I also know we have this conversation fifty times, and how Christmas is going is not why you come here.”

Jack frowned and resisted the urge to twitch. Staying still was very difficult when he was intrigued by something. 

“What-“ His bark sounded weaker than he probably intended it to, “What do ya mean?”

North laughed, “Go on. Ask the question. I know is what you really come here for.”

“What question?” One of his ears flicked in annoyance and- did his foot thump a few times? “I don’ know what ya on about.”

“As much,” North said, “as I love our talks, old friend, I know it is not me you want to talk to. Is Jack.”

Bunny bristled and even his fur seemed to stand on end, “What? Since when do I care about talking to the dag?”

Jack silently cursed. He _liked_ these encounters because he got to see North and Bunny bicker, and it was a change of pace from his dull and exhausting grieving. There was a reason he didn’t reveal himself and one of them was Bunny’s expression.

North blew a raspberry, “Oh, don’t give me that look. I know you worry! You ask every time you're here: How is the boy? Is he still sleeping? When will he come down? What does he eat? On and On and ON.”

North pointed at him, “You think you are slick. Only asking one question every other week and I admit- I did not catch on right away. But I see your pattern Bunny. You are worried for the boy.”

Jack looked between them; North’s confident crossing arms, stretching with the black ink of the tattoos, and Bunny’s furred arms crossed, every muscle in his body screaming anger and discomfort. Yeah, North was really pressing his buttons. One of the fastest ways to get Bunny annoyed was for Jack to mention anything about Bunny liking him. They stared off for a grand total of 6 seconds before Bunny deflated. Literally. 

“Course I’m worried, mate,” Bunny said with a sigh and dropped his arms. 

Jack’s jaw dropped to the floor. He nearly caught himself from gasping, knowing that Bunny’s sharp ears could pick up on the smallest sounds. 

Bunny slumped against the chair and picked at the wooden side with his claws, “You didn’t see him when the Tree died.”

Jack clenched his teeth. _His name,_ He growled internally, _His name is the Oak of Sorrows._ Of course, Bunny only came, and what? Checked on him? Because he pitied Jack. Hot embarrassment and anger flared up and the wood beneath his toes crackled with the softest sound of frost. One of Bunny’s ears twitched and Jack almost wanted Bunny to see him- tired, angry, invisible Jack that just wanted- wanted- 

Jack didn’t know what he wanted. A good sleep sounded nice. Leaving the workshop was both a good idea and an awful one. Approaching people, or spirits was bad. Approaching believers was a bad idea too. Going outside wouldn’t be healthy for his mental existence. Sleeping all summer wasn't exactly healthier either, but it was a better alternative than letting himself fly to Alaska to wreck some mountains. Thinking about anything involving the ‘G’ word or Oaky was a no go. Even thinking at all was a recipe for sleepless nights and panic attacks.

Yeah, Jack tugged a hand through his hair, he wasn’t having the best summer. 

“The Tree?”

Bunny folded his four fingers together, “Aye. The Oak of Sorrows was the rellie I told ya he lost.”

North stroked his beard thoughtfully, “ I am surprised someone so full of joy considered a being of sadness family. I met the old tree. Once or twice. He was kind, if a little confusing to talk to.” 

Family. Jack blinked back the moisture in his eyes. Twice, Jack had a family to return home two. Twice he felt the comforting love of familiarity. Twice he had lost it. No- no more thinking. Thinking was bad. Thinking made frost crackle and blizzards form. 

Bunny gave a soft laugh, much too brief to be considered one, “That’s what Jack said. ‘Cording ta Jack he listened to everyone heaps enough that he couldn’t make much sense of himself.”

“So you are worried for Jack, then,” North concluded, “You come to check up on him.”

The humanoid rabbit glanced up to the window, right below the rafter that Jack was perched upon. Stiffening in his panic, Jack almost missed what he said next, “It never hurts to check up on someone grieving, North.”

“I have been trying to get him to fly around, but he stays in the guest room all day. Only dinner some days does he come down,” North said, almost apologetically, as if he assumed Bunny was actually hoping Jack would come down and greet him. His furrowed eyebrows and worrying expression were also things Jack wasn’t going to think about, though Jack didn’t know why North thought Bunny was actually concerned enough to want to talk to Jack. They would inevitably fight, like they always did, and Jack would probably end up threatening him with his staff again if he pushed the right buttons. 

“No drama. It’s normal to want to sleep a couple centuries after something like this happens,” Bunny shrugged. 

“Centuries!”

“Bet ya didn’t think I could sit still that long, huh?” Bunny quipped.

“Vot etc da!” North exclaimed in Russian, “You? Bunny? You? I don’t believe it.”

He scoffed, “I told ya! Everyone grieves.”

“Maybe,” He sounded skeptical, “But I have never grieved for anything, I assure you. Especially not like that. Think of Christmas!”

Bunny retorted, “I know you’ve grieved before, you old bastard! And I never said you grieve in the same way.”

“Oh?” North titled his head as Bunny sniffed in indignation, “And how do I grieve?”

He grinned and showed off his bright buck teeth, “You throw a tanty. The whole deal. Ya probably curse and shout at some poor fool and then stomp up to your room to brood some more.”

“I do not!”

“I’ve seen it,” Bunny said, and added casually, “And I’ve also seen you cry, so don’t bother trying to hide that, mate. We both know what vodka does to ya.”

North grumbled a bit and Jack tried to hide his bubbling laughter. It was a strange feeling after staying expressionless for a few months. There was no reason for Jack to keep up a smile when no one was around. There was no reason to laugh while he slept and tried to cast out thoughts. Watching these interactions always made him feel a bit better like he was one step closer to being maybe okay again. Jack wasn’t ready to be a part of any conversations, but he liked to watch them and pretend that he was just a silent participant- like Sandy was almost. 

“Alright, alright,” North said, “If I… am angry in my grief, what of the other Guardians?”

Bunny snorted, “What am I, a therapist?”

“Is like a guessing game. I want to see if you know Tooth and Sandy as well as you think you know me.”

“Alright. Challenge accepted,” Bunny sat up straighter, “Tooth, huh? That’s easy.”

Despite his confident tone, Jack saw him pause and lean against the back of his chair in thought. Jack’s grin shifted a little bit smug as the minutes dragged on and North seemed to grow impatient. 

Just before North pointed out his error, Bunny said quietly, “I reckon she would hide.”

“Hide, hmm? How come?”

“It’s a defense mechanism for the Shelia. Hunted after and chased like an animal. When she feels threatened I’ll bet you she finds a safe place to hide, and when you grieve you feel more out of place and unsafe than ever,” Bunny said, “Don’t think she’d even let her little sheila army follow her. They’re copies of her, sure, but sharing memories is more complicated than that. More personal.”

They didn’t speak about what Tooth grieved for, or what even North cried over, even though Jack was dying to know. He was almost glad they didn’t share. From the Oak of Sorrows, Jack knew what it felt like to have a good friend, and sharing pain was a big part of it. It felt wrong to accidentally hear of the grief Jack wanted them to share themselves. 

North didn’t acknowledge that Bunny was right, though Jack thought it surely must be. Instead, all he said was, “Sandy?”

“He’s a bit harder to read. Always cheerful and bright. Sometimes I wonder if he even has anything to grieve over,” Bunny paused, “But I know he does. I know what he lost and I reckon he tries to forget it. Denial. Don’t bloody know how he seems to forget it so well when...”

Jack realized he was leaning slightly off the railing and was hovering in the air as he was straining to hear the words Bunny wasn’t going to say. He quickly fixed himself and ducked behind the rafter more to ensure his cover wasn’t blown. 

“Must have something to do with the amount of sleeping he did. A thousand-year or so nap on his sand island. I reckon the impact wasn’t the only thing that kept that star asleep.”

“Ah, so Sandy, you, and Jack are sleepers,” North said softly, thoughtfully. Jack wondered when the whole conversation became more than a taunt.

Bunny sighed, “Well, you can grieve in more ways than one. But they’re more like... defense mechanisms. Sandy pushes it away with sleep. Tooth hides herself and her memories. Ya put up a brave front. I suppose Jack doesn’t know what to do with himself or where to go. Sleep is the best procrastinator.”

Whether to be offended at being called lazy or to be embarrassed Bunny nailed his analysis in one go, Jack didn’t know. North hummed, “Perhaps that is why he has not left yet. Never in one place at a time, yeah? But if he believes he has nowhere to go or is-“

“Afraid of what’s out there when he does leave,” Bunny finished for him, “Yeah. The Oak of Sorrows was a home for him, he said.”

North sighed deeply as if he were remembering his own home, “A home is not something you can replace easily. No rush to create a new one.”

“Nay. Ya can never replace your home.”

“And what of you?” North asked, “You slept when you lost your home?”

Bunny’s ears dropped and they didn’t perk back up for a long while, but he tried to joke anyway, “I did more than sleep, mate. I nearly gave someone a gobful.”

North laughed, “Who?”

“Tsar Lunar. The Man in the Moon’s father,” Bunny said simply as if he didn’t just turn the world around Jack’s head.

“What?” Jack mouthed with his thin pale lips, flicking his eyes back up to the open window the moon was winking through. _That guy’s father?_ The same moon that Jack sent years thinking it was just some mystical rock that spoke to him once? He didn’t know he had a father!

North shouted, “Tsar Lunar? _The_ Tsar Lunar? The man who my sword belonged to? That Tsar Lunar?”

“One and the same,” Bunny said, and North sat back with a stunned look on his face. No doubt, the man looked up to the owner of his most prized sword. 

“Whatever for?” North looked utterly confused as he gestured dramatically with his arms and shoulders to convey his astonishment. 

Bunny shrugged and shifted his eyes away as a subtle shadow crossed his face, “He took something of mine.”

“Alright,” North frowned in an expression that said ‘fair enough’ though Jack was sure he didn’t understand, “So you are tired, old, cranky rabbit that seems to know more about us Guardians than we thought you did.”

He scowled, “ _Someone’s_ gotta worry for you lot. You’d fall apart without me at this rate!” 

“Apologies, apologies,” North sounded sincere, but Bunny had a split second to let down his guard before North was looking at him with a wide grin, “You are tired, old, cranky, _caring_ rabbit.”

“Lay off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters   
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Ahua- Aster’s Doa and Buca’s Doe  
> Hani- Aster’s brother
> 
> This is fun. What do you guys think about Mr. Bunnymund as the group therapist? Hm. Maybe that’s not such a good idea seeing this guy also socked the Man in the Moon’s father. I wonder why?


	4. A hint of Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are just starting to get interesting! Aster discovers a key aspect of his upcoming, long life, and Jack is beginning to think that maybe the Guardians are here to stay for the long run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly bits of fluff and and introduction to a new character, yay! A bit (a lot) of foreshadowing here and there... It will be so fun to look back on these chapters after the plot thickens, haha. Thanks for reading!

**1000 CYCL BMiM**

  
**E. Aster Bunnymund: age 0 CYCL, 7 solannos, and 4 days**

Buca had to go. 

Aster didn’t know why. He didn’t even know what ‘go’ meant. Usually, another word followed ‘go’. It was “I have to go to the market” or “You have to go to nest” or “Don’t go too far”. Never just- go. 

“Where?” Aster had asked, for more context.

Buca’s answer wasn’t straight forward enough to make sense to him. He said he had a job and he had been gone too long from it. Seven solannos was a long time for a Pooka to stop working. Buca said that it was an emergency and he would be back soon, giving Aster a little comfort. In the morning, he said, so say your goodbyes tonight. Together, Aster and his brother leaped onto Buca and clung to his arms. They laughed as he tumbled to the ground, taking the brunt of the fall, and claiming Aster and Hani were too heavy for him to carry. This was probably untrue. Aster and Hani had grown quickly in seven Solannos, from balls of fluff the size of their parents' hands to almost as tall as their knees. Buca grunted when he lifted both Hani and Aster, so he knew Buca wasn’t as strong as Doa who carried them both with ease, but they weren’t as heavy as to knock Buca down. No, Buca loved to tease. He and Doa would bicker and laugh at such a speed Hani and Aster could only watch and match the timing of their laughter. 

But now Buca was leaving, and if Buca was leaving then Doa wouldn’t have anyone to bicker with and roll her eyes at. At nest time, Buca wouldn’t sit at the edge of their nest and threaten to tickle their feet while Doa told them stories in a hushed tone. During the day, Buca would sometimes leave to his office and speak to other voices that Aster would grow bored eavesdropping to. Most of the time though, they all went in the meadow and helped with jobs. 

Their burrow was dark and comforting, but the meadow they lived in was bright and exciting. Most of all Aster loved going outside. Tall green grass grew so high that it nearly touched the tops of his ears when Aster was standing. Usually, he bounded through the tall grass with Hani on his tail with Doa half-heartedly telling them not to go too far. With satchels on their hips, Doa would collect the discarded cotan seeds that grew from tall stocks as long and thick as a tree branch but completely straight and vertical. Colorful flowers grew from the tall green stalks and shed white seeds onto the ground. When the seeds were ready to sink into the ground they discarded thin layers of the white coating until all that was left was a brown seed that could slip easily under the ground and a pile of fluff on the surface. Aster was especially good at finding the pieces of fluff that were hidden or too small for Doa or Buca to find. That was his and Hani’s job. After Doa and Buca went through the field collecting cotan and other plants, Hani and Aster would dart through and see who could collect the most. When they weren’t helping their parents they were racing and collecting anything they could find. Under the hot suns, Aster and Hani would race until they were left panting and collapsed in their parents' double shadow. 

On other days, Doa and Buca tended to the Busach tails with the other Pooka. Their small cotton field belonged only to Doa and Buca, but the Busach tails were everyone’s responsibility and everyone took turns. They were funny looking creatures, low to the ground unlike the Pooka, and furless. Their skin was thick and coarse, a brown shade that matched the dirt they resided on. With their long tails, spanning the height of a full-grown Pooka, they would cut the blades of grass and eat them. Aster watched one Busach tail swish its tail around smoothly as it turned in a long circle, creating a fallen circle of grass and anything in its wake. Which, for crop harvesting, Pookas, was considered a problem. So they tended them and kept them in a fenced field that grew back grass just as tall as it was before in one night. Aster was told it was simple magic to control the speed of growth. Conveniently, the faster the Busach tails ate, the faster they shed the skin of their tails to keep the bladed dies of their tail sharp. The thick brown layer of skin on their tails would smoothly shed off and the Pooka found it useful to create clothing. Mostly war attire. No one he knew wore the Busach leather- just the cotan. His own trousers and loose-fitting shirt were made by Buca’s hand and the cotan they collected from the fields. 

This was why Aster did not understand why Buca had to leave for his job. Wasn’t his job to help them in the field like he always did?

Aster didn’t breathe when he heard the sound of shifting dirt. Sleep was something that came difficult to a kit that always had light burning on the backs of his eyelids. With any sudden shift or flickering in the light, Aster's closed eyes would pick it out, despite his valiant efforts of covering his eyes with his blanket. It didn’t work. Here- the light glowed from the ground of their burrow. Feet shaped light patterns padded on the brown dirt that was slightly hued with the green trails of the roots aura. With his eyes closed and his back turned, Aster could ‘see’ the crackling core of his father's light as he left the burrow. Just as quietly, Aster placed his own feet on the dirt beneath him and started to get up from the nest. Only, a warm arm gripped him around the waist and burrowed his face into Aster's back. 

“Hani!” Aster hissed, mostly to himself since his intention wasn’t to wake his brother. Gently, he pried Hani’s arm off of his waist and tried not to breathe when he shifted again and trapped the bunched blanket in his deathly trap. 

From there, Aster followed Buca’s slightly fading light trail left by his footprints. The exit from the burrow and up into the meadow was blocked by a wooden latch that Aster had to use his stronger legs and feet to push open. With only his head peeking out from the latch, Aster stared at his father's form, beyond their Cotan field and almost too far for him to see clearly. Buca was on the road, a dirt path that led to the market and the other Pookas burrows. He was on all fours, as if he were just about to start a race, and darted forwards so fast that Aster startled. In a fluid motion of speed and strength, Buca darted across the road in a blur of brown and leaped into the air. Instead of touching down on the road gracefully, as Aster expected, Buca popped into inexistence. Aster gasped and pulled himself out of the exit hole to somehow look closer at the magic he had seen. He disappeared! 

“Buca?” Aster called to the morning light and wind, “Where…?”

Buca didn’t come back. Through the long morning, Aster waited underneath the tall window that almost gave him a clear view of the road that his Buca disappeared from. Doa gave them their breakfast, a mashed supplement of Doa’s adult food, and they ate in silence. 

“Easter?” Doa looked at his untouched food and frowned, “What’s wrong?” 

“He-“ Pressure, hot and uncomfortable, built up behind his eyelids and leaked tears out of his eyes, “Buca disappeared!” 

Hani looked at him, alarmed, and reached over to clumsily pat his flopped ears. 

“Kit,” Doa looked more confused than anything, “What do you mean? Buca left this morning, but he will come back.”

“No, you don’t understand! He’s _gone_!” His hands burst out in front of him with the exclamation and flopped back to the top of his head in defeat.

It had been weighing heavily on Aster all morning. One moment he had been there, fast and moving and running away from their home, and the next he vanished into thin air! Normally when they wanted to travel, his family would walk on the path together, sometimes running, but they never disappeared. Something happened to Buca. He was gone. 

“Gone?” Hani asked, “Gone, gone?”

“Yes, _really_ gone. I watched him run away then disappear!” Aster’s voice was high and distressed. It would be different if he watched Buca walk away, or even run, but Buca leaped and then disappeared. Aster didn’t know what happened when someone disappeared. Where did they go? Did they come back? How could they come back from being nothing? 

“Oh,” Doa said and her tone made Aster sit up and give her a hopeful glance, “I see. You saw Buca use magic.” 

Hani spoke up, excited, “Magic?” He loved the magic that Doa and Buca showed them. With glowing green eyes, Hani would watch their parents call the plants to grow up to their palms. With a little shudder of light, the flowers straightened their stems and opened their petals. Aster liked watching the light grow brighter along with the growth of the plant in a matter of seconds, but if magic involved making his Buca disappear he didn’t know how he felt about it. 

“Sometimes,” Doa’s purple eyes gleamed with mischief and adoration as she leaned forward as if she were telling them a secret, “when Pookas run- they run so fast that they run right through time.” 

Aster sniffled to push away his lingering sadness, “Through time?” 

The words didn’t make much sense to him. Time was a hard thing to wrap your head around, but it sounded cool anyway. Hani seemed just as confused and Doa gave both of their confused and awed faces a chuckle and said, “Remember when you two run through the fields during the day?” 

“Yes!” They both said happily, glad to remember their favorite part of the day.

“Well, imagine running so fast that you don’t even need to run anymore. It takes you no time to get to where you want to go. That’s what Buca did. He ran so fast he doesn’t need to travel to the First Colony, he can get there just like that!” Doa snapped her fingers to emphasize the speed of Buca’s travel and then gestured to Aster in one movement, “Which means, Aster, Buca can travel back home just as fast.” 

“He can?” Aster wanted to confirm just one more time.

Doa plucked him up from his chair to get him ready for the day, “Yes, he can. He should be back in two days, which means, we three need to work extra hard while he is gone. Can you two help me with that?”

“Yes!” Both Aster and Hani leaped off their chairs and darted towards the carved-out corner of their burrow where their clothes were arranged in dirt carved shelves. Eager to get their day started, Aster raced Hani to see who could get dressed faster. They were, after all, racing against time. 

* * *

**Autumn of 2012, end of September**

“You know, North,” Jack said, reclining on the tallest rafters. He paused, for dramatic effect, when the man shouted in Russian and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Jack’s voice, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want me to leave.” 

“Bah! Jack! What I say about speaking from such a high height? I cannot hold a conversation when you are so far!” North exclaimed trying to find Jack in the rafters. He had moved already, skipping from one beam to another, and North's quick eyes followed the trails of frost he left behind, but never actually spotted the boy behind them. 

Jack laughed, floating behind North's head, and said, “Well, I’m not the best conversationalist.” 

“Ya! I can see that!” North said after his shoulders seized up and he whirled around to face him, “You would rather sneak up on me than speak with me! This is why you’re on naughty list.”

“Really?”Jack leaned against a wooden table that was unoccupied by Yeti’s or elves. While he liked to bug them, freeze their hats from time to time, or sprinkle a newly painted toy in frost patterns, he didn’t actually like to disturb their work. Christmas was important this year, and for the first time since he met the Guardians, he actually could play an important part. He didn’t plan on telling North about it, but Jack wanted to make up for the hospitality North offered for no price. How many kids would have lighter spirits if the day they opened presents was truly a _white_ Christmas?

North walked as he talked, and Jack chose to follow him, leaving a frosty trail with his staff for the elves to mop up. No harm in a little extra spring cleaning right? With his hands wildly gesturing as he spoke, North said, “Yes! Okay, no you are no longer on list- but! Perhaps your present this year would be better if you spoke to your friend rather than try to scare him.”

“Try? I’m pretty sure you jump every time I so much as say your name,” Jack said with a smug smile. Sneaking up on people was a specialty of his. Years of avoiding winter spirits and summer spirits alike gave him a bit of experience, “And what do you mean _presents_? I haven’t got so much as a fleck of coal for Christmas.”

North turned to look at him, eye duller and saddened than when they first started talking. At his expression Jack took a step back, clutching the staff tightly in his hands. He messed up, didn’t he? It was the same look in his sapphire eyes as the day of Easter, disappointment, astonishment, and _sadness_ that seemed to eat at his soul. North wouldn’t kick him out, would he? It was just a harmless joke. Jack wasn’t actually mad at the lack of Christmas presents. He was technically above childhood when he became Jack Frost, so it was obvious why Jack stopped receiving brightly wrapped presents. 

_He won’t kick you out. Fear not._ A voice hummed before confirmation came from the man himself. 

“Well, good thing I will change that then, hmm!” North said suddenly as he turned around and began walking again, as if his eyes hadn’t just spun Jack away from his ease like those old spinner toys he played with his sister, “This Christmas is going to be different. Yes, yes, this Christmas will be for more than just the children- but for us too!”

“Us?” 

“The Guardians!” North said, “I already have your present created.”

Jack stammered out, “My- _my_ present?”

“Yes! Each Guardian is exchanging gifts,” North said, “Oh! And we are playing favorite game- White Elephant! Make sure to bring another gag gift along with the four others.”

“North!” Jack exclaimed, bouncing on the air like a trampoline to flip in front of the barreling man, “Why didn't you tell me earlier! You didn’t give me time to prepare! I didn’t know I was giving gifts!”

“And getting them!” North said, the twinkle in his eye starting to become obnoxiously bright, “You have plenty of time. Is several months until Christmas.”

Jack frowned, “Uh, not that many. And you think I have all this time on my hands? Sure, I can sleep for a season, but once Autumn’s out- boom! Winter’s on its way. Do you know how many cold fronts blow through Washington during September? It’s ridiculous! You’d think the seasons would hold a normal schedule, but it’s taken me years to get it down to a science. Greenland needs more icing, Utah’s due for an unexpected snowstorm in November, and don’t even get me started about Europe or Russia!”

“Russia?” North said, “What’s so bad about Russia? Aside from the ruffians and thugs and thieves- Russia is a wonderful place!” 

Jack hummed, “Oh yeah, Moscow is beautiful. And there are a lot fewer ruffians and thugs than I think you remember. Thieves? I can’t say. All I know is that someone needs to cheer up the cold up there.”

“Bah, has not been so long since I visited,” North said, “And what is this ‘cheer up the cold’ I thought you only cheer up children, no?”

“I may be a Guardian now and all that- but my responsibilities extend past children, North,” Jack gave him a pointed look, “I’m a seasonal spirit. I’ve only become a Guardian recently. Sure, I prefer kids, but I don’t _dislike_ adults.”

How could he when he watched them buddle up their children and nurse their wounds? When he watched a stubborn mother peck her child’s forehead despite his insistent tugging? Jack never made it easy for the adults- but he tried to make it fun. Snow blocking the driveway to force the workaholic dad out into the snow with his playful children. Convincing the teacher to let her students out into the snow by pushing open the windows and giving them a taste of the crisp excitement just outside their grasp.

North nodded, “You always look so young. I forget you are the spirit of winter.”

“ _A_ spirit of winter,” Jack corrected, “There’s a bunch of winter sprites that spread winter. My job is to make that winter a little less on the dangerous side and more on the fun side.” Okay, so that was simplifying it a bit, but that was the most important part of his job. Seriously, people in Russia? So cranky! It’s no wonder with all the cold, but Jack liked to think that more children were growing up to love the feeling of frost on their cheeks and a wool coat. There were good sides of winter. As long as warmth came with it.

As long as they stayed warm. He refused to think of what happened when there was _only_ Jack Frost and no warm coat or a waiting cup of hot chocolate inside. 

They wound up in North’s office where he would sculpt new ideas for toys from giant blocks of ice. Sometimes, he would ask Jack to freeze it over once or twice and Jack happily obliged.

“I think,” The man pushed the spectacles up on his nose to see the small details he was carving through the ice, “This is longest conversation we’ve had since beginning of summer.”

At that, Jack winced. It was the end of September, and Jack had used the spare guest room since mid-June. He came down to meals more like a phantom than a guest, so he wasn’t surprised that North was urging him to speak more. Truly, Jack didn’t sleep for four months straight, but he avoided the host as much as possible. Choosing instead to hover around Phil, the yeti, or to hide in the rafters and listen to him speak to the other Guardians, mostly Bunny. Tooth and Sandy visited once or twice once they heard of Jack’s stay, but after Jack sent them on a wild goose hunt, both knew it was useless to keep coming if Jack was going to hide in various places around the workshop while they searched for him. It only took Tooth three frustrating attempts of flying around the workshop with Jack pressed against some wall fighting the urge to breathe heavily and give in to anxiety, for her to give up. Baby Tooth managed to find him. She tried to get Jack to come out of the spare closet he was hiding in, but when Jack refused, she gently nuzzled his neck, patted his cheek twice with her small hands, and left him alone. Jack only allowed himself to cry after he no longer heard her buzzing wings.

He knew they were just worried, but he didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to talk to _anybody_. Not Baby Tooth or Sandy who didn’t talk all that much and would be respectful and comforting towards him. Jack was sure he didn’t even want their comfort or the silent company. It wasn’t the comfort he craved or that he used to have from his dear old friend. It would just hurt. 

The meals with North were silent mostly on his end, and he knew it came to a great surprise to the old man. He was sure he gave the impression of easy-going, talkative, annoying. Jack made sure he projected that aura, but he couldn’t keep it up this summer. Even if he wanted to laugh, Jack felt the energy seep out of him at the thought. Without a doubt, North was disappointed in him. In his silence, in his grief. 

Now that he was bouncing in and out of the spare room more often, his encounters with The Mighty Santa Claus were longer and filled with more than half-hearted replies. The grief wasn’t gone and neither was the exhaustion, but the restlessness was starting back up as soon as the winds grew a tad crisper with the tell-tale signs of Autumn in America. Even now Jack felt slightly nauseous as the conversation dragged on longer than he liked. The couple of hours that Jack spent with Guardians the night Pitch attacked was probably the longest span of conversation that he had in years. Speaking regularly was hard. Normally, the sprints he hung out with on the rare occasion were those of few words and more play- the way Jack liked it. 

“I don’t-“ Jack started, already losing the flow of taunting and confident talk that saved him from sounded like an awkward fool, “I don’t actually talk that much.”

North scoffed, “Bah! I hear you talking to yourself all the time!”

Jack bristled, “I’m not talking to myself! It’s- It’s the wind!” 

At that, North looked at him curiously, “You speak with the wind?”

“Ah, yeah. The North Wind. She’s been my friend for as long as I can remember. The whole flying thing comes from her really.”

“Really?” North turned with wide eyes. Since he was created- er, died, reborn, whatever you wanted to call it- the wind had been the second greeting he received; plucking him out of the sky and playfully tossing him around. She had been the only one delighted in his creation and tied herself to his essence as soon as she discovered him. Of course, the North Wind was just as free as the other winds, but she was the type of sprint that could be everywhere at once. Her essence was spread so thin because of her absence of a solid body, that she could always keep Jack company. Resulting in a constant Wind ruffling Jack’s hair wherever he went. The only time he felt an absence of that wind was deep in the cave of Alaska where Pitch had tossed him down. There- he was truly alone. 

Other than that moment Jack liked to forget, the Wind was his steady companion, so of course, he talked to her. 

“Ah, so if you speak to her, does she respond back?” North questioned and Jack realized he must have muttered some of his thoughts out loud. Next to his ear, the wind giggled her bubbly laughter. 

Jack fought to hide his embarrassment and swatted at the taunting wind, “In- in her own way. I don’t hear a voice, per se. But I can usually tell what she means, and I know she’s listening.”

“I have an idea-” North’s eyes lit up, “Just speak to me as you would the wind! Whatever comes to your mind!”

Jack laughed and the noise was sort of strained as he bounded on one of the one benches and kicked up a few snow flurries. The wind was tugging at his ear and Jack chose to ignore the urging air by swatting at it again. 

“Well, its, uh, it’s different,” Jack searched for excuses, “See, she doesn’t really respond- so you would have to keep quiet too, and that’s just awkward so-“

North tutted, “Jack- I do not wish to replace your friend, I wish to _be_ your friend!”

He said it with such excitement and boisterousness that Jack could only stare wide-eyed at the man. Santa Claus, Nicholas St. North, wanted to be _his_ friend? Sure, North always used the expression of ‘friend’ and ‘old friend’ as he spoke to Jack and the other Guardians, but Jack just figured it was that overbearing extrovert energy that North exuded not genuine intentions. 

“And friends speak to each other, no?” North smiled up at him with a hint of mysteriousness as if he knew exactly what Jack was thinking. He was sure his astonishment was clear on his face and schooled it into his own vaguely disguised amusement.

Jack shrugged and floated onto his back, the wind supporting his weight in approval, “Alright, Kris Kringle, you asked for it. Don’t be surprised if you can’t get me to stop.” 

North laughed, “Bah! As if!”

At first, Jack didn’t know what to say and that much was apparent in his awkward attempts to make a joke about anything that came to mind. His voice would trail off uncomfortably, and Jack found himself looking towards the door in a desperate attempt to conjure up an escape plan. 

“Jack,” North interrupted some rambling about seasonal winter weather patterns to gesture to Jack’s staff in hand, “Where did you get the staff?”

“The staff?” Jack looked down and his face spread into a wicked grin, “Oh, you’re going to love this.”

North raised an inquiring eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Jack answered simply and felt the glow of his staff’s magic trickle into his palm like the first flows of a winter storm. Slowly, the wood crackled and the curved crook of it stretched until it was pointed and straight like a spear tip. North’s mouth opened in shock as the wood grew longer branches and a few small ones popped off. A string thin and flexible somehow sprouted from the root of the staff to the tip, and Jack stopped trying to understand exactly how his staff’s magic worked. 

“A bow and arrows?” North said, “Jack! This is incredible! Why did you not use this at the battle?” 

Jack let off an experimental shot and the wooden arrow embedded itself into the wood above North’s door frame, right where Jack wanted it to. He smiled smugly and then flittered over to pluck the wooden arrow out, “Yeah, Twiner can do a bunch of stuff, but I prefer to use his original form. It’s more comfortable and he likes it too.”

“Do not tell me,” North said, “The staff can speak too?”

“Speak is a relative term,” Jack flexed his fingers over the staff, “ I sort of hear a voice in my head? But it just sounds like my own thoughts- but sometimes they’re thoughts I would never think so I know they come from him. He isn’t as chatty as the wind is.”

Twiner was sort of like his conscience. Jack knew he wasn’t a full being of his own because he couldn’t hold a full conversation for long, not for lack of want, but because his existence was strongly tied to Jack's own. Ever since Pitch snapped him in two, his voice had gone softer and quieter- more like an occasional thought in his head rather than an advising voice. Currently, Jack wasn’t sure if spying on Bunny and North was his idea or his staff’s. He gripped his staff in concentration and wondered if he would even have the strength to do what he wanted. 

Slowly, the staff’s crooked bow flattened into a flat triangle-like shape and thin branches spread into legs and limbs. From the thickest part of the staff, Twiner’s face grew and a nice little hat sat upon his head. When the transformation was finished, Twiner was as twice as tall as Jack and a third as skinny, being made of sticks and all. Jack beamed as Twiner hopped off the table and danced a little bit in excitement. He bounded up to Jack and Jack flew in a circle around him just as excited, “Twiner! I didn’t think it would work!”

“Whhat?” North said, standing from his desk, “A scarecrow?”

“Yeah! “ Jack grinned and Twiner mimicked his expression as the crack of his lips upturned and turned to North innocently. It was a little creepy to someone who wasn’t used to faces in trees and scarecrows like Jack was, “This is his scarecrow form. I can’t hear him in this form so I tend not to use it. And he really prefers being a staff or a bow. He’s more of a messenger than a warrior if you know what I mean. But he has saved my life more times than I can count!”

Twiner rested his gangly fingers on Jack’s leg and smiled at him with a nod. It was a nice confirmation to have since Jack hasn’t seen him since the battle went down. As Jack… slept, grieved, whatever you wanted to call it, Twiner was a constant presence in the back of his mind, reassuring him that it was alright to sleep for a while, it was alright to be devastated and Jack was sure Twiner was too. He was apart of him, after all.

“That’s incredible, Jack,” North said honestly.

Jack shrugged but he knew he thought so too. North touched the hilt of his sword and startled when the overly tall twig creaked over to him and bent in half to come closer to North’s face, “Uh.”

Jack stifled a laugh as Twiner continued to stare and glanced at the carved ice dragon North was creating, his version of asking permission politely. North jerked his hands towards the dragon in an exasperated gesture, and Twiner happily picked up the miniature dragon in his fingers. With a soft chuckle, North watched as Twiner picked up his carving utensils and started carving something on his own, “I like this fellow. How did you find him?”

“I didn’t. He found me, sort of,” Jack hummed in amusement as Twiner happily carved away at the ice block, “He was with me before I was Jack Frost.”

North nodded, eyes not leaving the scarecrow intently chipping away with ease, “You were a human, like I was, were you not?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, “Though ‘like you’ is a little far fetched. I was just a shepherd boy. My Pa owned a farm on the outskirts of the village. It was right next to a pond.”

Jack paused. Hesitation giving way to a long stretch of time before Jack shook himself and almost searched for his staff before he realized Twiner was a walking, talking being of his own that didn’t need Jack’s constant protective grip. Twiner, sensing his brief dismay perked up and took two steps forward to cross the distance between them. He sat next to Jack and looked at him with caring eyes before Jack could breathe again.

“I actually can’t remember much,” Jack admitted, “But I remember holding the staff before the… before. I think it was my Pa’s staff. To help herd the sheep. But he gave it to me for some reason. I don’t know if Twiner became magical when I did or if he always was, but he’s been with me for as long as I remember.” 

Flashes of memory sprung up in his mind. A flash of red and brown- the first falls of Autumn- and a brown staff in his hands. It was distinctively different from the first memory the resurfaced of him on the cracking pond about to reach for his staff and the blue and whites of winter. He must have gotten the staff the season before he fell through the ice. For whatever reason, Jack could remember the same staff held in his father’s hand, and then the next thing he knew it was in his own hand. What he would give to remember the face of his father or the sound of his voice. Pa must have said something— wouldn’t he? The staff was important to him, or it was important to Jack before he became Jack Frost. Flashes like this would come to him sporadically and Jack was left dizzy and confused mostly. It answered questions, but it left so many more unanswered. Did he help herd the sheep with his father? Was that his job? Did he love herding with his father, or did he roll his eyes and groan like some of the teenagers he saw do to their dad’s? Did he do something important to earn the staff? Was his Pa proud of him? 

Jack swallowed and when he looked down, Twiner was the shape of the staff again and a tiny frozen carved sheep rested on the table next to him. With tentative hands, Jack curled his fingers around the wooden staff, and it glowed blue under his fingers. No thoughts entered his head, but Jack felt a happy hum flit through his mind- the sound that could only belong to Twiner. 

_That wasn’t so hard, was it?_

Jack laughed. There it was. North looked at him, something glowing in his dark blue eyes as he stood.

“Jack,” He said softly, the same tone that he used when Sandy disappeared. Jack found himself tensing, “Thank you for telling me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome I guess,” Jack felt embarrassed at the sudden moisture in his eyes. 

North murmured, “ I never had a family, but I am glad to hear of yours.”

“You… didn’t?” Jack felt his expression drop. Just a few months ago, Jack knew exactly how that felt. The longing, aching emptiness that came with having nothing to fall back on. To wonder with every mistake he made if it was because he knew no warmth or discipline to keep him from doing the wrong thing. 

For North it was a little different he found, “I was raised in the wild. No parents. No family. It is no big deal. I think I was too much of a handful to grow up anywhere but the wild.”

The man chuckled, but it was laced with more than humor- the acceptance that never quite came with the feeling of abandonment. Jack knew kids that were left. He knew kids that were subject to the cold of winter, alone and afraid. He tried to make those winter nights less biting. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, not knowing if there was anything else to say. If talking to people was uncomfortable then comforting people was a foreign language. 

“Is alright, Jack!” North shook his head and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, “I have a new family now. And you are invited to join.”

He said it with a wink and Jack shrugged off his hand on his shoulder with a laugh. A few flying feet away, Jack felt like he could breathe against the suffocating presence of someone so close, saying nice things like that. 

He said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

The next time he saw North, it was to say goodbye. The meal was bounteous, apple crisp with sugar glaze, mashed potatoes, and roast beef salted with the same sweet flavor of the apples. 

“These apples are really great North,” Jack said, swallowing a large bite.

North grinned over his cup of wine, “Yes, yes! Apples are very good from America this time of year.”

“Autumn,” Jack said.

“Yes,” North hummed and went back to eating, thinking that was the end of the conversation. 

“Well,” Jack trailed off, “Since, um, since it is Autumn, I was thinking about going out.”

North stopped, “‘Going out?’”

“Yeah! You know-“ Jack was rambling again he knew it, “Winter’s coming up early in some parts, and those leaves need frosting. Actually, there are a few places I need to visit, according to said leaves, and I was thinking of stopping by to see some of my friends and maybe-“

“This is wonderful news!” North bellowed, “You are going out into the world! Ha! The old Jack Frost is back!”

“Whoa, slow down there, big guy. It’s like you want me out of your hair or something,” Jack smiled, but his eyes didn’t match the expression. 

North waved his hands, “Bah, none of that. It was like you weren’t even here most of the time. And when you were, I enjoyed our talks, no?”

Jack smiled and ducked his head, “Yeah. Yeah, they were nice. And… um. Thanks, North.”

“Of course! You are welcome anytime!” He smiled, “That room will be waiting for you if you ever need it. And the rafters will await your frosted feet.”

Jack said, “You know you really need to dust up there. That’s no way to keep Santa Claus’s workshop, don’t you think?”

“Hah!” North said, “Maybe since you are up there so often, you should be the one cleaning my rafters!”

Jack laughed, knowing that the rafters were significantly cleaner than at the beginning of summer for reasons he wasn’t going to admit. If spying on the Guardians would put him on the Naugty list, maybe cleaning the rafters he spied from would balance it out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters   
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Ahua- Aster’s Doa and Buca’s Doe  
> Hani- Aster’s brother
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience 
> 
> Check out Bill Joyce’s instagram! His username is heybilljoyce and thats where I learned about Jack’s nifty companion Twiner!


	5. Expanding Horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the market!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are lovely and I appreciate them so much :) Sorry I was a few days late, the holidays were crazy!

**999 CYCL BMiM**

**E. Aster Bunnymund: age 1 CYCL. First day of Childhood Phase**

“Aster!” A young voice, a happy voice that made the light in his core brighten, called. 

Bounding paws came to find him, pushed himself under the bushel, and popped his head up to see him. The light bumped his head against Aster’s in a sign of affection, and he saw the world grow brighter at the edges of his eyes. 

“Aster! Why are you hiding?” Hani said with a buck-toothed grin.

“I’m not hiding,” Aster said and barely refraining from shaking with excitement, “I’m hiding these!”

With bright eyes, Hani shifted closer until he could see the treasures Aster was hiding in his palm. Three golden gems. One was purple, like Doa’s eyes, and the other blue like the sparkling river that ran through the meadow, and the last one was green, like Buca's special robe he wore only when he ran through time.

Hani gasped, “Those look like magic! I can see why you're hiding them, Aster.”

Aster’s little paws loosened their grip on the stones. He shook his head and placed one delicately against the roots of the bush, “I’m not hiding it for _me_ , Hani. I’m hiding it for the other kids to find. It’s like a game.”

“Ohhh,” The bright kit watched his brother place the other stones in clever hiding places, “Can I help?”

With a sudden start, they darted around the meadow, racing, and tugging on each other's tails. This meadow was different from the tall grass that Aster and Hani played in back home. Today, they collected all of the cotan from their field and walked down the dirt path to the market. Buca helped collect the cotan last phase, but he had to leave when the first sun touched the tips of the tall blades of grass. Normally this wasn’t an issue, and Doa would let Buca kiss her on the cheek before he left. This time, Doa was upset. 

It was the first day of Childhood Phase, Doa had argued, the council can’t ask Buca to go today. Aster didn’t know why, but this day was special for some reason. Today Doa plastered on her brightest grin and woke them up with the heavenly smell of special treats for breakfast! She dressed Aster in his favorite shirt (he only had one because he absolutely hated clothing of all kind, but there was one cotan purple tunic that had the least catches and snags on his fur) and let Hani and Aster play with their wooden dolls and spaceships carved as the Intervallum Armies and their incredible Lunar Spaceship. 

Then, with an eager smile, Doa told them they were going to the colony. Their burrow was just on the outskirts of the colony so they didn’t have many kits their age to play with. Every time it was their turn to tend the Busach tails though, their parents would let them bounce around the colony meadow with the other kits. Today, it was just Doa, Hani, and Aster walking down the dirt path that Aster had watched Buca dart down nearly every morning. Buca always came back, for days or weeks, or sometimes just for a single night, but they didn’t mind too much. Any fear or disappointment was stifled by the thought that Buca _would_ return. Sometimes Aster watched it happen. He would wait by the window or peek his small head out of the latched door and see his Buca pop back into existence with a running start. After the first morning, Aster had watched Buca run through time, Aster himself became obsessed with the idea. The very second he watched Buca leave, Aster would creep out of his burrow and onto the dirt path and run as fast as his small legs could carry him. Then, with surprising agility for a kit his age, Aster would leap into the air, hoping with every fiber of his being that he would be fast enough to leap through a hole of time made by the energy of his own speed. It hadn’t happened yet, and he always ended up crashing into the dirt, but soon! He was sure of it. 

This morning Aster didn’t attempt to run through time, and the first step he took on the path that day was with Doa’s hand in his. They were walking much better than when they took their first steps to their hatchling egg, despite Hani’s protests. To his brother, walking (wearing clothes for Aster) was the worst possible thing their parents could ask him to do. He understood Hani’s distaste for walking- unbalanced, wobbly, hard, more effort- but Aster didn’t mind. If it made him taller and maybe just a little bit more like Buca and Doa. His fur was still fluffy as the cotan they collected, and his natural form curled into a tight ball instead of stretching tall like an adult Pooka, but walking was the first step of improvement. So he didn’t mind as Doa walked with them on the path, one hand in Aster's and one hand in Hani's. Conveniently, Doa shifted two more hands onto her lower side to carry two baskets full of cotan to sell at the market. The only thing that made walking the full distance to the market better for Hani was when Doa would swing them forward with her arms, and for a few exhilarating moments, the two kits were flying. Now, Doa was in the market with her booth set up nicely as Aster and Hani darted through the meadow.

Laughing, Aster came screeching to a halt, and Hani tumbled into him full speed; it was his favorite to prank to play on his brother. They fell into heaping piles of laughter since Hani didn’t have the capacity to feel anger towards Aster’s tricks, and Aster would brush off his whiskers and hop over to the spot he saw a treasure. Whether it was a perfectly shaped flower, or a shiny stone, or a stick that was the perfect wood for carving, Aster and Hani hid them all around the colony, giggling as they darted under the feet of adult Pookas and hid behind barrels of fruit. The adult Pooka would laugh at the kits scurrying at their feet and shake their heads fondly. They bounded around a pond and Aster stopped to watch the glistening glow of the blue water. 

“Whoa, Hani,” Aster breathed, perching over the edge of the pond, “Come and see-”

With a shove, Aster’s small form was sent tumbling into the pond, drenching his fur. When he popped his head back up to the surface he scowled at his giggling brother. Snorts were coming out of his mouth, and he fell on his back and held his stomach. Apparently, Hani could play tricks as well. 

“Hani!” Aster dragged himself out of the pond, stomping loudly as he squished through the thick mud, “Now my clothes are all wet!”

The dripping purple shirt over his head was now stretched and sopping with water. He tried to adjust the shirt to fit again, but it brushed uncomfortably over his fur. Hani did not stop laughing. They trudged towards Doa’s booth, Hani two steps behind him to avoid Aster’s swiping paw, and Aster grumbling to himself about the heavy clothing. Never mind the fact he hated wearing clothes- now he was wearing wet clothing. 

Arivum Pookas, or the Pookas that lived in the dry grasslands and meadows, did not bathe using water as the other clans did. Their fur was fine and dry like the atmosphere that tended to resent the moist and oily method of washing with water. Doa washed them in the dust room, where they would roll in the smooth and fine dust until their fur was shining and healthy. Aster and Hani were known for getting into mischief in the dust room instead of actually bathing themselves. Water was necessary for drinking and cooking, but they never needed an abundance of it. This was good considering that the largest body of water Aster had seen was that pond he had just been shoved into. 

“I was wondering when I would see my two favorite kits!” Doa said happily until she blinked in surprise as she felt the dampness of Aster’s paw on her trousers and saw his drooping ears, “Did you go for a swim?”

“Hani pushed me in!” Aster thumped his foot a few more times to show his agitation. By his side, Hani suddenly shrank, and his laughing smile dropped along with his ears. 

She lifted him up by his neck gently and set him down on the wooden bench she sat in as she waited for customers, “Well good thing I thought ahead and brought you extra clothes, huh?” Quickly, she set about redressing him and toweling off the cold and damp fur that left him shivering.

“But I don’t like those clothes,” Aster protested as he lifted his arms to let the shirt drop over his exposed belly, “My favorite shirt is ruined.”

“Easter,” Doa said, and Aster’s ears flattened against his skull as he heard his longer name spoken, “There’s no reason to be upset. Did you get hurt?”

He frowned, “No, but he pushed me!”

“That’s silly,” She ran her furred fingers over his head. Despite his anger, Aster leaned into the soft touch, “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Yes, it does!” He puffed out his chest and took a step back from his Doa’s hand.

In the corner, Hani shrank lower. A flicker of guilt twisted in his small frame as he saw the light dimmer slightly. 

“Why?”

Aster glanced up as his favorite word was used against him, “Why?”

“Yes, 'why'-” Doa smirked at his bafflement, though it was not a cruel smirk, and brushed the top of Hani’s brown fur, “ is being angry at your brother more important than loving him?”

Without even looking, Aster felt his brother's light flicker at the word, duller than when he bumped his forehead against Aster’s earlier. His ears drooped, and he swallowed, “I still don’t like being pushed.”

“That’s understandable,” Doa hummed, “It will be a pain to dry out your fur properly. Khani, what do you say?”

Hani’s whiskers quivered, and his voice was low as he said, “I’m sorry for pushing you, Aster.”

It was just a simple prank, Aster knew. To be so upset over something that Aster would likely do to his brother himself was unfair, but he held onto his resentment just a moment longer. It wasn’t the water, or the coldness, or the wet clothes. It was the pushing that made him upset. The very act was abrupt and startling to the point it almost made tears prickle in his eyes. He wouldn’t have minded a splash or Hani tugging him into the water, but the shove… 

“I am sorry, Aster,” Hani said again, seeing Aster’s hesitation. His light was uncertain but sincere as he apologized, and at that moment his resentment disappeared just as Buca had through time. Watching his light visibly crumple before Aster’s eyes, knowing he was the cause of it made his own light feel dimmer. Even if it had made him mad, Aster hated watching his other half dim because of him. 

He reached forward to give his brother a wet hug, bumping his forehead to Hani’s to mimic the display of comfort and affection Hani showed him earlier. They closed their eyes and breathed deeply as the weight of their foreheads pressed together. A slow warm glow spread in his chest at the reappearance of hope and light and Aster murmured, “It’s okay,” Aster backed up and grinned at him, “Do you want to find the treasures I hid?”

* * *

**Autumn of 2012, beginning of October**

“Whoooo!” Spirals of frost danced across the skin of a pumpkin, spreading to the green vines curling out of their stems. The grass was prickled in dew frost as Jack danced amongst them, letting bits of his winter chill spill from his feet and the tip of his staff. Careful not to let the full amount of winter seep out of him, Jack gripped Twiner tightly and tried to reign in his excitement. 

It was scary, at first, stepping into the open air and not knowing exactly where he was going, then the Wind gently reminded him that not knowing was part of the excitement. He took a deep breath, and Jack was halfway across the world, soaring through the golden-brown leaves that chattered in his ear. Laughing as the fallen leaves took flight along with him, Jack visited each corner of the planet and dropped bits of the cooler North Wind wherever he went. Twiner’s magic glowed in happiness right along with him, and Jack felt as if the months of the heavy weight that kept him from flying higher than anything more than the rafters were gone. Now he could nearly walk on the clouds as he raced through the Autumn morning sky. 

Halloween was just around the corner, and Jack cackled at the spooky decorations that littered doorsteps. He dropped through a grocery store entrance, and the automatic doors startled a woman who was beginning to enter. Jack skipped through the stored aisles, trailing a bit of harmless frost in his wake as he did. Bats, costumes, and all sorts of black, green, purple, and orange decorations lined the aisles like friendly ghost greeting. Two siblings were arguing over a vampire costume, one insisting that they couldn’t copy the other.

Jack smiled and sat on top of the tallest aisle, “Aw, come now. What’s the harm in a little game of copycat?”

With a quick flick of his hand, a snowflake drifted down and nipped the tip of the brother’s nose. With a startled blink, he giggled suddenly and looked at his sister, “What if you were the red vampire, and I was the black vampire? Then we could both be vampires for Halloween!”

“Okay!”

Jack laughed as they took their respective costumes and ran off towards their father who debated between a bag of organic fruit snacks or a chocolate assortment bag. Jack nudged the chocolate assortment bag off the shelf with the tip of his staff, “You’ll have no leftovers if you use this bag, that’s for sure.” 

The man startled at the fallen bag but picked it up with a shrug and tossed it in the cart. Most adults were a little superstitious, believing in fate and all that. Jack found if he gave them a nudge in the right direction, they would usually go with it. He left the city with a self-satisfied grin and hopped over to the next furthest place. Never lingering in one place for too long, he bounced around like a ping pong ball across the continents and states. If he stayed for too long, Jack knew the restless excitement would wear off, and he would be left with more than exhaustion. For a month, Jack had traveled the globe and spread hints of autumn in every corner, shooing the summer away with the brisk breeze and dew frost in the morning. Finally, his favorite month rolled around, and Jack could hardly contain his excitement. 

He sprang along, finding anything that caught his eye. This time it was a Harvest Festival, and the world was a fiery red and burning orange. Pumpkins spilled out of the pickup truck as Jack stepped on its hinges and let the trunk door fall open with his weight. He cackled and caught the tumbling pumpkins with the wind before they could break apart. Instead, the pumpkins scattered like a group of playful children. Frost carved over the pumpkins as Jack landed on it’s ripe, orange skin. With a flickering little laugh, Jack skipped from the disaster and headed towards the bustle of happiness that wafted in the air like pumpkin spice and cinnamon. Apple vendors sold a variety of apple products, ranging from apple cider and apple pie to plain crisp. Carefree, Jack plucked an apple off one of the displays and skipped away before anyone could notice it was gone. To this day, Jack didn’t know if they could see the apple floating ominously or if the apple disappeared along with Jack. 

The Wind swept over the crowd, and ripped their hats off of their heads, and tossed their scarves. She twirled golden and purple leaves around a group of children and filled their tumbling hair with them. Jack smiled as he heard the joy emitting from the chattering leaves. 

Another little quirk the Guardians didn’t know about him was that Jack could hear the leaves. Just as he heard Twiner, sometimes it wasn’t a voice at all, but a thought that brushed the back of his mind. Little messages of catastrophes or helpful warnings tickled his ear with their crinkling chatter. More often than not, though, the leaves simply talked. Their voices sank into the volume of the human crowd and faded into background noise. It was unclear if the laughter echoing through the festival came from the rusted red leaves or the girl with strawberry gold curls. All the same, Jack took in the noise and perched on a branch near the concessions of tents and homemade offerings, smiling. 

There used to be festivals like this in his memories. 

“Smile,” Jack hummed the reminder himself, and Twiner’s consciousness stirred in his mind, rising up at the sound of the song, “Though your heart is aching~”

Never as big, never as bright. Colorful dye was hard to come by back then, but the pumpkins and the squashes provided just enough color. There was a fire roaring and the sound of music that Jack had since forgotten. Laugher, of course. There was always laughter in his memories. Just hearing the joy in his memories made Jack think that maybe the Moon wasn’t so crazy to make him the guardian of it. 

“Smile, even though it’s breaking,” Jack’s voice was near a whisper rather than a song. 

It felt right when North tossed him that wooden nesting doll. Warmth glowed in his chest at the word ‘joy’ carved into the bottom of the nesting doll. His smile matched the feeling as he accepted being a Guardian of it. The feeling of finally being okay, happy, content, not alone, Jack didn’t doubt the attribute that he had been chosen to protect in children.“When there are clouds in the sky~“

But now it felt a little bit like wearing a hoodie that didn’t fit. He had searched for the right hoodie for years before his current dark blue one fit his frame. Anything else felt too worn, or too new, too tight on the waist, too baggy on the shoulders, or too suffocating on the neckline. Joy didn’t fit like Jack thought it would. Did North’s wonder fade, he wondered or had his center persisted through every trial? What happens if a Guardian losses their own center? What if it didn't come back? 

Jack had lost a lot, but his joy usually persisted; it always did. After every goodbye, every lonely night, every strike that left his blue sluggish blood patterned on the snow- Jack persisted. He laughed again, he smiled, he flew. He always got back up again. 

Down in the deepest pit of Antarctica; alone with nothing but his own self-loathing and failure- Jack made it. Somehow he stumbled out of that hole, renewed and joyous and angry and hopeful. Somehow he helped tip the balance back over in their favor. 

This time, the sorrow lingered. It swept over him, drowning him, pinning him to the spare room bed, and refusing to let him leave. Maybe it wasn’t just the Oak of Sorrows dying- but everything crashing down on him all at once. They saved the world, hurray! But Jack had lost and gained a lot in that small time frame. It all happened so quickly, Jack didn’t even have time to mourn all of the losses. Sandman’s disappearance, Easter’s destruction, Twiner snapping in half— his sister’s wide eyes; the last thing Jack saw before he died. Seriously, Jack didn’t get time to mourn his own death, which had just been speculation beforehand. 

Even when it got better, doubt was always close on his heel, chasing him as he zipped around the world afraid to let it catch up. 

Jack swallowed and the song in his throat dissolved along with his will to finish it. He sighed heavily, and the frost spread up the branch of the tree he was perched on. Stationary. It caught up. The moment he let himself catch his breath, it swallowed him whole and left him paralyzed. He hated staying still. 

_You’ll get by_. The soft voice that Jack never could actually pair with a sound echoed through his mind. Twiner, softly encouraging Jack to continue singing where he paused for a long moment. 

The leaves shifted with the wind, and a few lucky ones drifted to the sky, tasting flight even for a second. Their simple, wordless joy lifted a smile onto his face as he reached out and caught a gold-dipped leaf and let it twirl around the knuckles of his hand before the wind scooped it up. 

“You’ll get by.”

He had gotten this far, hadn’t he? Faced off Pitch, accepted as a Guardian, opened the door to North’s workshop. It wasn’t much; it would never be enough, but it was something to keep him going. Twiner glowed underneath his fingertips in silent encouragement, and a few fallen leaves brushed his forehead and his ears. 

“You’ll get by,” Jack said, firmer, stronger. The wind pushed against his back until his clothes were pulled and tugged down by gravity, his body with it. Jack spread out his hands and let the wind trace through his fingers. Falling towards the ground with only the wind and trust to catch him, he let his eyes slip closed, and the wind direct his path. Just before he hit the ground, her powerful force shifted him upwards and shot him in the direction of the slow bumpy tractor that was carrying small children and their parents. Zipping through the crowd, skipping off the hay barrels with bounces and flips, physically pushing away the lethargy, and letting the pure pent up energy that sizzled inside him take over, Jack let the carefree spirit he wished he was made purely of push past all the sorrow that now had nowhere to go. 

The apple still in his pocket came to his attention as he tapped his staff against the ground and stepped into the crowd. He was careful to avoid brushing shoulders and running children as he squeezed by, looking at every carefully crafted object or food item. A handmade scarf, some packets of herbs and seeds, wooden signs, and carvings. Now those, Jack lingered around. His fingertips brushed the edge of a small wooden house, and the miniature window sparkled with curling frost over its surface. Jack pulled back and went to the next vendor. 

Carmel wafted through the air, hot and rich, and Jack’s mouth watered at the smell. Just as Jack was about to bite into the red, round apple that he carried in his pocket, he spotted a small child with a ghost cloak over its head, staring up at the apple booth with longing in their hooded frame. 

“Hey, little guy,” Jack said, “Want an apple? I really don’t need it.”

It was an old habit, a dumb one too, and Jack almost shrank back when he realized this kid could walk right through him, and Jack was not ready to experience that. But then the kid turned to look at Jack and he realized that he wasn’t looking at human eyes at all. 

“Little Scare?”

The ghost figure hopped in surprise and darted away before Jack could say another thing. He laughed when he saw the four legs flicking out from under the sheet as fiercely as they could. 

“Hey!”Jack launched into the air to see better and trailed the Little Scare, number 2 by the looks of it. It bounded through tents and people with the stealthiness of a squirrel. It darted up to another in a white sheet, obviously panicking by the telling signs of anxiety in its frantic gestures and wide black eyes. The other creature had a head of a pumpkin with a jack-o-lantern smile and a curling vine from the top of its head. A sheet fell over the lower half of its body and Jack could see a glimpse of the stick legs that peaked out of it. As the one Jack had been chasing frantically tugged at the pumpkin-headed one, it simply brushed it off and focused on the task at hand. If possible the jack-o-lantern smile curved further in what only could be described as mischief. It took one last look at the crowd before it charged towards a cat that was simply sitting outside a booth, licking its fur. A hiss and cat screech later, the Little Scare was falling over with cackling laughter and dragging a nervous Scare after it. 

“So that’s what you’ve been doing while I was away, huh?”Jack leaned against his staff, a few feet away, “Scaring cats and stealing apples?”

The Little Scare, the one he dubbed the most anxious and panicky, leaped in the air in fright and ducked under a curtain to hide itself. The obvious leader and most mischievous one hopped over to Jack in delight. It bounced around him a few times before Jack settled it with an “Okay, okay, I missed you too!”

A bump against his leg had him turning to see the third Little Scare, the quietest and sneakiest one. This Scare had a carrot nose and eyes of coal, like a snowman, on a white sheet. An odd bushel of pine straw-like hair burst from his head along with a stitched smile arose from his sheet. 

“Number three!” Jack said, “Man, you really know how to sneak up on someone! I didn’t even know you were there!” 

One two and three Scares bounded around him in nervous or excited energy. He didn’t know exactly what they were, but they were friends of the Jack O Lantern, possibly some of his mischief minions. Only during the months of bats and goblins did Jack see them puttering around North America getting into all sorts of trouble. What they were created to do, what their purpose was, didn’t matter. They were childlike and carefree. Their only job to be themselves. Jack liked to pretend he could be a Scare sometimes. 

So he chased after them, following them through the crowded heaps of people doing as they pleased. They insisted, anyway- a game of tag was already in order. 

“Boo!” Said the Scare number one- the creepiest looking one of them all- to a child that was beginning to stare. The little boy startled and her fear spiked at the sudden noise. The three little Scares cackled at her fear as Jack felt a twinge of pity course through him. With a flick of his finger, a snowflake landed on her nose and her shout of fright dissolved into nervous giggles. Better. 

“Nothing wrong with a harmless scare,” Jack said, mostly to himself because the Little Scares vocabulary consisted only of various volumes of ‘Boo!’. They were visible to a few random children or adults, but as far as Jack knew, they weren’t tied to a belief like he was. The occasional spectator, the lover of horror films, a fearful child. No one knew what the Little Scares were. No legend was tied to them. Jack speculated that they were created by the mere idea of mischief and fright in children. They weren’t like real kids, not like the ones in Burgess, but they were fun and they were his friends. More often than not, a strict or concerned parent would catch sight of the Little Scares out of the corner of their eyes and fret over the lost, naughty children. After all, what fun was it to get in trouble, without the threat of getting caught? 

The Little Scares, only appearing to be children dressed in sheets, roped the other children into running through the clotheslines and hiding in the empty fruit and vegetable baskets. Jack hid with them, pretending to be a child himself. If he subconsciously grew a few feet shorter and the roundness of a child’s face came back to his hard lines and angles, then neither Jack nor the Little Scares noticed- and especially not the children.

“What are you doing in there!” An indignant shout of an adult left giggles erupting in its wake and scattered children. The thick fabric of the clothing in one of the vendors tugged against Jack’s face as he darted to the next hiding spot. The Little Scares took off down the dirt path of people and Jack followed, letting their maniacal and slightly distorted laughter fill him with his own laughter. They were quick, but Jack had no trouble following as he skipped over the rifts of the wind and let his staff propel him forwards. 

They tossed the sheen and polished apple that Jack had never gotten around to eating until its surface was brown and poked with holes from the pressure of being caught with twig fingers. Sticky juice leaked onto Jack's hands, but he paid no attention to it. He was too busy laughing at Little Scare Number Two who puzzled over the apple being speared through its hand. Number Three had fallen to the ground laughing at the look of absolute befuddlement on Number Two’s face. The other children were laughing too, and at some point, Jack swore he saw a few children looking _at_ him rather than _through_ him. He supposed it made sense. They were playing catch after all. The brain fills in gaps where it made sense, and it just didn’t make sense to have an apple tossed to a person that wasn’t there. They saw Jack, but they didn’t see him float above the dirt, or see his frost shoot from the ground and cause a few adults to trip. Once, Jack made a couple slip and fall into each other. It wasn’t ‘romantic’ in his opinion or his intention, but he had seen a few chick-flicks to know a thing or two about cliches. As soon as the couple gave off the indication that they were going to kiss, Number One ran up to their fallen forms and shouted ‘Boo!’ before they got the chance and thoroughly frightened the both of them. 

It went on like this for a while, until the game of tag grew lesser in numbers and there were fewer baskets to hide in as the vendors packed up. One girl, who couldn’t be older than six, with strawberry golden hair and brown eyes, tapped his shoulder. Jack jumped and whirled around to face her, fully expecting her to be looking at some point beyond him. Instead, she stared directly at him, hands folded in front of her as she swung back and force with an excited grin. 

“Can we be friends?”

“What?”Jack whispered and the fleeting thought that his voice sounded different, younger, was swallowed up in the focus he had on the girl in front of him. 

“Can we be friends? My name’s Matilda, like the movie. What’s your name? Where are you from? I’ve lived here my whole life but I’ve never seen you before,” She said and showed off her bright teeth that were missing two on the right side. Distantly, Jack thought that Tooth must be proud. She looked like she flossed, “What grade are you in? I’m in third grade. I go to Willowgate Elementary. Do you go there?”

“Jack,” Was all he could get out, “My name’s Jack.”

For some reason he couldn’t voice his full name; under the illusion that he was a normal boy, ‘Frost’ sounded like a last name that wasn’t real. Before he could answer any of her other questions, Matilda was whisked away by her parents with a shout of goodbye leaving Jack frozen in place. 

He was seen. 

A grin split across his face and he turned to the little scares that stood behind him, “Did you see that?”

Number three blinked as Jack’s grin felt as if it were wide enough to crack open his skin like a carved pumpkin smile, “She saw me!”

Ecstatic, Jack leaped into the air and landed on the parked tractor behind him, “And I didn’t even try! She- she- Matilda saw me.”

She didn’t see Jack Frost, but she saw Jack, and that was more than he could have asked for. Was this what it was like being a Guardian? Was this what he was waiting for all this time? The simple act of being _seen_. It was enough just to play a game of tag and catch and suddenly- bingo! Jack Frost popped into existence. 

“She said she wanted to be my friend,” Number One smiled brighter at this, seeming to partially understand, and took off towards the edge of the festival where the trees lined the field. Jack followed as the other two bounded after their leader, excited at the next task at hand. They never could stay still for too long during this time of year and nightfall was just beginning to paint the world black. Night was when the Little Scares were the naughtiest. 

The surprising encounter faded from their excitement, but it still lingered in Jack’s mind. Even as Jack aided in scaring travelers on the spooky trail- rustling the leaves with the wind and crackling frost to add to the sudden noises within the quiet- he couldn’t stop his smile from reaching his ears for a different reason. The Little Scares popped out of the bushes with varying garbled exclamations of ‘boo’s’, but Number Three simply sat on the side of the path staring at the poor people. They would startle at his presence and try to ignore the feeling of being watched, only to see Number Three reappear in a different spot from before. It was very effective. The little guy even managed to spook Jack a few times. Arguably, Number Two was the worst at scaring people, but he made for a good distraction with his four flickering feet that rustled the leaves and set up the perfect trap for Number One to jump scare them. 

Jack laughed at the frightened faces, but what Jack really wished was that he answered Matilda’s question. Maybe he would come back to this small town in the winter, like Jack Frost, Guardian of Joy, and maybe Matilda would remember him and call him a friend. 

* * *

A snowflake landed on her nose as she swung her hands back and forth between her parents. The afternoon was blue and bright, but as she looked up to the sky she saw the gray clouds cover the glowing moon. 

“It’s snowing!” Matilda said in delight, “Mommy it’s-“

The small specks of snowflakes suddenly disappeared from where they kissed her arms and the locks of her hair. She turned back to look at the field that was slowly growing further from her. Above the heads of the children Matilda was playing with before, she saw the thick cloud of gray dropping subtle snowflakes onto them. The clouds thinned out in spotted dots like a field of cotton the further it was from her new friends. Her parents tugged her forwards, but Matilda couldn’t help but look back at the children- especially the little boy with an overgrown ratty hoodie on his shoulders and brown pants rolled up to his knees- looking like some sort of wild child. She couldn’t stop thinking about his silvery hair and his bare feet that were impossibly clean compared to her mud-caked boots. As she stared, she saw a figure of silvery hair catch her eye and flip up into the air, and land on an object that was half as tall as him. Jack, she later learned his name, had been doing all sorts of tricks as they played. In her class, Matilda knew a lot of boys and girls who liked to do tricks and show off. But Jack seemed like he was doing it for the pure fun of it. He didn’t stop to see the other kids ooh and ahh over him, in fact, Jack hardly looked at the other kids at all. Matilda watched him stand on that odd, tall stick of his with only one foot, and he barely blinked when the other kids cheered him on! He was strange. And even stranger was his astonishment when Matilda spoke to him. She assumed that Jack wasn’t very shy as every kid automatically agreed that Jack was the leader of fun, along with the other kids in the ghost costumes, but he was so soft-spoken when Matilda asked for his name. He almost looked like he wanted to cry. 

Just then, Jack took off into the air and he appeared to be flying. Matilda gasped and tugged on her mother’s hand to turn her towards the strange boy who never told her if they could be friends or not, “Mommy look-“

“No, sweetheart,” Mom responded, “It’s not snowing. It’s only October.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters  
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Ahua- Aster’s Doa and Buca’s Doe  
> Hani- Aster’s brother
> 
> Arivum Pooka- A clan of Pooka people who live in the meadows and grasslands. The highest populated clan. Specialize in farming and growth magic. 
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience
> 
> According to Bill Joyce(the author) Jack can receive messages from the leaves. He says that Mother Nature contacts him this way, but I like to think the leaves have a bit more individuality than simple massagers. Also! Bill Joyce created these three Little Scares on his Instagram, and I absolutely love them. In the same post he also mentioned the Jack O Lantern who may be a friend or foe...


	6. What’s in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what exactly does the ‘E’ at the beginning of Bunny’s name really mean and how does Jack spend his Halloween?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I’m excited to get to the good parts and we are slowly picking up the pace here! I can’t wait to share what I’ve got in store with you guys. Drop a comment or a question and I would love to answer it the best I can :D

**999 CYCL BMiM**

**E. Aster Bunnymund age: 1 CYCL. Second Day of Childhood Phase**

“Look at him,” He said, folding his arms across his chest, “He hasn’t moved from that spot in thirty minutes. That’s not normal, Kahua. Aster never stays still.”

Her crinkling purple eyes filled his vision as she pressed her forehead against his, “Really, Eamon?” She asked, teasing mockery in her tone. She pronounced his name fluidly- the ‘E’ almost silent compared to the weight of ‘Amon’ in her voice. 

Eamon huffed, uncrossing his arms to cradle Kahua’s strong frame to his chest, though she was much taller and broader than he. Huffing, Ahua let him tuck his head in between her neck and shoulder and gently rub his chin on her dark grey fur. He watched the one-cycle-old Pooka scribble on his scrolls. 

“We talked about names, Ahua,” A familiar tickle of amusement flicked his ears at her insistence to pronounce the ‘E’ at the beginning of his name. They had been mates for nearly three millennia now, so the official first name was no longer needed. She knew him as E. Amon just as he met her as K. Ahua, but they each had their preferences on how their names were said. His name was something passed down through the generations. It was a name of status and power, and though Eamon shied away from that power, Ahua glowed in pride at it. While Eamon accepted his name, and the weight it carried with numb hands, Ahua encouraged him to seize it. To grip it with both hands and to ignore the hateful and zealous looks cast his way. The too-humble part of him was carried by the glowing pride Ahua displayed in the straightness of her spine and multiple arms at her sides, and her hatred for her own name was respected by Eamon’s careful words and thoughtful gaze. They each respected each other. As Eamon was encouraged to embrace his name, Eamon knew not to force the same thing on Ahua. Ahua preferred it that way. 

She huffed a breath against his ear and it twitched against the force, “Oh, I know. You taught him all sorts of things a phase and a cycle old kit shouldn’t know.” 

“Nothing harmful!” Eamon protested, “He seemed proud, even.”

Ahua’s scolding voice left her, and she looked at him, that subtle glow of pride in her eyes that made Eamon almost bashful after all these years, “He should be. He has his Buca’s name.” 

An hour ago, Easter’s eyes had filled with wonder when he peaked his curious head over Eamon’s desk and saw the pen in his hands and the scroll sprawled across the wooden surface. 

Eamon had asked, an hour prior, “Do you want to try, Easter?” His little nose twitched. 

Lifting the kit gently by the scruff of his neck, he set him on his lap, and his small legs only spanned to Eamon’s knees. He took a moment to adjust to the small, fragile Pooka on his lap, his kit - _still here, still well, still happy, still alive_ \- and cleared his throat. 

He said, “You hold the pen in your paw like this.”

The pen shifted from his hand to Easter’s, and his furred eyebrows narrowed in concentration. His pink tongue peaked between his two front teeth as he gently pressed the black ink against the paper and watched as the liquid flowed out of it in a straight path, dotted with two ink blotches that looked like hind paw prints. 

The little kit gasped and looked up at his Dad as if he wanted to confirm the amazement. Eamon’s whiskers lifted in a smile, “Go ahead.”

A bubble of excitement rippled through Easter as he giggled and drew the tall, thin stem of a cotan plant. Eamon watched, quietly fascinated to see a kit’s first. The round shape of a pond came into view and next to it, a ginormous flower with multiple little petals that grew from its large center, like a multidimensional star. 

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing to the abnormally large flower. Everything else in his drawing had been surprisingly accurate for a kit of his age. 

Easter looked at him with a smile, “It’s an aster! Doa named me after this flower, she said. It’s her favorite flower, and it’s purple, and it looks like this.”

“Oh,” Eamon said, “Yes, of course, I see it now. The high definition and intricacy of each individual petal. It is most definitely an aster flower.”

Easter giggled at his official tone and beamed at him, “Do you like it, Buca?”

The ginormous scale wasn’t accurate, but in Easter’s little world, he supposed that something that represented himself and his name would take up most of Aster’s world and, in this case, the page, “It’s beautiful, Easter. I think there’s an empty space on the wall that this drawing belongs on.”

His little gasp of excitement had Eamon nuzzling his chin on the top of his head affectionately. Aster bumped his head back against his chin and his two ears flickered up between the space where his head wasn’t, like a parted curtain. 

“You know what your name means, but do you know where the first part of your name comes from?”

“You mean the eeeee part?”

He smiled, “The ‘E’ part, yes. This is how you spell your name, look.”

He scrawled out the letters carefully at the top of the page, large and spaced apart enough for Easter to comprehend better. The kit shifted his head and the long ears on the top of his head shook with the motion, nearly hitting him in the head. 

“E. Aster Bunnymund,” Eamon recited with a hint of pride in his voice. It was easier to be proud of your kits than it was to be of yourself, “Each Pooka gets three names. One, the name at the end- Bunnymund- is the name of your colony and birthplace, so you can always know where you belong. I’m a Bunnymund, and the kits you play with at the market, and the Pooka in the burrows next to ours. It’s our colony. Our clan.”

The kit’s eyes were focused on the name he had circled, his nose twitching with the indication that he was attentive. Eamon continued, “The second name, Aster, is a name that belongs solely to you. You are Aster.”

“Like the flower,” He whispered, looking at the extravagant, beautiful flower on the page.

Eamon nodded, “Like the flower.”

“And the ‘E’?” His son looked up to Eamon, his eyes wide, trusting, innocent, bright. 

His breath caught in his throat, “That’s my name. The first name is the name of one of your parents. ‘E’ stands for Eamon. So there will always be a part of me with you. So you will always know who loves you, who you can return home to.”

“E… Eamon,” The kit tasted on his tongue, trying his Buca’s name on for size. Eamon chuckled at his contemplative face. How a cycl and three day old had so much opinion already was beyond Eamon, but Aster, it seemed, had come determined, hopeful, and opinionated straight from his hatchling day. 

“I like your name, Buca,” He said, “But it sounds funny in front of my name. E. Aster. E. Aster.”

“Easter,” He scolded gently, trying not to laugh at Easter’s wrinkled expression of distaste.

He shifted a bit from the scolding tone and then sat up, with his ears pointed in alarm, “But what about Doa? If my name doesn’t have hers at the beginning how will I know that…”

Eamon reassured, “Doa loves you, Aster. Even if her name isn’t at the front of your name. Her name was given to our first kit, your older brother, that’s all. It was my turn to give our kit my name. Hani doesn’t have my name, but that doesn’t mean I love him any less.”

“Oh,” Aster said quietly, “It doesn’t mean you love me anymore, right? Than Hani?”

He shook his head, “I love my kit’s all the same.”

“That’s a lot of love to give, isn’t it. All the same amounts to all of us.” He spoke it with such authority that Eamon barked out a laugh. Never mind that it was one of his personal fears of having kit- not being able to give out the love they needed. Loving didn't come naturally to the old Pooka. His mate was another story, his beloved, the other half of his, the soul that completed him- Ahua was easy to love and she gave love just as easily. Eamon struggled with that aspect. He was too blunt, too… different, and maybe even a little too smart for his own good. 

Eamon said, “It is.”

He hummed and gazed at the still pencil in his hands, “What’s Hani’s name stand for?”

“Khani,” He started, “means happiness. When he was born- that was everything he encompassed. The ‘K’ stands for Kahua, your Doa.”

Ahua resented it at first. Resented that tradition. She wanted to get rid of the ‘K’ that carved its name onto her from such a young age. If it weren’t for Eamon’s convincing, Khani would be Ahani instead. 

Easter nodded like it was obvious, like happiness was a given with his twin brother. Aster said contemplatively, “If you had another kit, would it have your name?”

“Yes, it would be my name to be placed at the front. But you don’t have to worry about that for another thousand cycles,” Eamon said.

His green eyes were blown wide, “That’s a _long_ time! I’ll be big by then!”

“What are you two doing?” Ahua said from behind them, towels folded over her shoulders as she carried them. She shot a look from Eamon to the paper in his hands, “Amon-“

“I can explain- “ A grin built on his face despite the obvious danger he was about to be in.

She gestured to the papers, “Hey! We promised not to teach them until after Childhood Phase! Really, Eamon, he’s going to have a lifetime to study scrolls- let him play, and run, and just be a kit!” 

“He had questions!” Eamon gestured to the confused kit between them, “About his name. And he just wanted to draw. Childhood Phase is about drawing.”

Easter nodded his head, “I had fun, Doa. I promise. I like drawing and learning.”

“I’m sure you do,” Ahua shook her head fondly and sighed.

Thirty minutes later, the kit was still huddled over the table, colorful assortments of ink in his hands as he sprawled over the paper. Seeing Aster so enthralled by this made Eamon want to capture his first moments of seeing holographic ink. Hani was out and about, splashing in a puddle made from their leaking spring well and hopping around like the ball of happiness he was. Eamon had been dragged into chores, dragged into a bit more than that- a few stolen kisses in the kitchen- and when he went to check on him, there he was. Silent, studious, almost, as he aggressively colored. 

Kahua shot him a look, “It’s your fault. You were the one to start this all.”

“I thought he’d lose interest after a while,” Eamon leaned against the counter, bafflement clear on his face. 

She patted his cheek, “He’s happy, isn’t he? There are no set rules about Childhood Phase other than he is happy and carefree.” _And alive_. 

Their Childhood Phase was a phase of celebration. To celebrate the carefree happiness of childhood that was about to end, to congratulate their kit's strength, and to mourn the kits who were not strong enough. 

Eamon disagreed with the notion. He lived in a time where childhood was not a phase of five days, but a whole ten years of innocence and freedom. Before the war. Before the Dream Pirates doused the galaxy in the sticky tar feeling of fear. Childhood was always celebrated, but not for that reason. Not to congratulate the kits that were still alive, the ones that lasted through one year with their superior strength and smarts. 

It was not strength or cunning that preserved his life as a kit. If survival was measured by strength and wit, then Eamon would be dead, and his sister would still be alive. No, it was luck, the roll of the dice, the unfair game they all were playing that decided that Eamon should live over others.

It was because of this uncertainty, this fear that hung over Ahua and Eamon through the first year of their kits life that they were over-cautious. They hardly visited the meadow of high population and distractions. Eamon tried his hardest to stay home despite the calls that beckoned him away. Even now, he was using a tracking spell to follow Hani's bouncing movement outside their burrow. There was a ward in place around the small meadow they called home, and Hani knew not to cross it. Maybe, Eamon thought foolishly, the Anguish wouldn't find his kits. Maybe their kits were free from the dangers that followed every Pookan child. Maybe he had protected their home enough, protected his kits enough to outlast the dangers. If they lasted longer than a cycle then surely they would live to adulthood. Easter and Khani had made it this far. Surely... surely they would still live. He refused to think about any other option.

“Oh?” Eamon raised a brow and teased, “And who was the one to get chewed out for answering a question just a few-“ Hiding his true thoughts was a talent he achieved a long time ago. 

“Shush you,” Ahua squashed her hand onto his cheek to stop him from speaking. It was effective, seeing that Eamon lost his breath as soon as her twinkling eyes found his. He always loved her eyes. Khani and Easter nearly had the identical color and shape of his own green ones, but his eldest son carried those bright violet eyes, “You’re still not exempt from kitchen duties.”

“No?”

“No,” Her smile was bright and playful. Eamon followed her into the kitchen, “There are still dishes to be washed.”

* * *

**October 2012**

**Halloween Night**

“So we’ve got goblins, ghosts, scarecrows, werewolves…” Jack hummed to himself, “But no pumpkins. A little odd for Halloween, don’t you think, Twiner?”

The scarecrow nodded next to him and his branches creaked with the motion. He held his bow loosely in his arms and speed-walked next to Jack to keep up. The wind was howling tonight with the wolves and the kids dressed as wolves. A woman passed him with an amused smile on her face and made eye contact, “Oh, and witches too.”

Most creepy creatures got a kick out of Halloween. They got to go around scaring kids without being locked up or burned at the stake. Of course, not all were looking for a harmless scare, and that was why Jack was here. He also liked to make trouble where he could, but since the Boogey Man, he didn’t even want to give a kid chills. Why be afraid when you could have fun instead?

_Jumpscare!_

_Scared, this one’s scared!_

_Blowup ghost frightened this one. The glowing eyes are pretty freaky, I have to admit._

_Excitement and way too much sugar. They should not have given Calvin that much candy._

_Scared!_

_Friends in costumes and matching outfits. How cute. Carie’s posting a picture on Facebook to compare with Dan’s picture-perfect kids. His daughter has custom-made Cinderella shoes-_

_Scared!_

Jack perked up and caught a lone brown leaf that drifted by, “Scared?”

_Scared and alone!_ The leaf trembled, _Mother said not to run ahead. Didn’t listen. Should have listened. Hungry. Hungry. Scared- no- terrified._

“Where?” Jack gently placed the leaf in Twiner’s palm. 

_Around the bend. The small forest between the brown and yellow house. Terrified. Terrified. Don’t let him eat them. So small. So scared._

“Alright, spread the message,” Jack said and nodded to Twiner. With his bow, Twiner attached the leaf to his arrow and shot it off into the night to spread the word to the other leaves. Arrow after arrow Twiner sent messages of warning and look out to the leaves until he heard a constant buzzing of:

_Clear!_

_Danger! Oh, wait, it’s just a prank. False alarm-_

_Fun times over here!_

_Clear!_

Jack pushed off the illuminated street towards the danger he was warned of. No screaming- but a voice that Jack knew all too well greeted him. The only way to describe the voice was creepy in a way that classic horror movies were creepy. All flashy lights and smoke machines and big sudden bangs. It hummed a Halloween song and its voice trembled and croaked like the floorboards in a serial killer movie. An echo down a well. A whispering in the winds.The boom of a BOO! 

“Jack-O-Lantern,” Jack said with friendly ease as Twiner, now a staff, touched the ground. Three children- _Susan, Henry, Cody_ the leaves informed him- were wrapped in the suffocating green vines of the pumpkin and pilling with tears and so much fear that Jack had to check if the Boogeyman was around. 

Jack Frost liked the Jack-O-Lantern. They shared a name for one- which Jack found both irritating and amusing that there were two legends of bad/evil Jack’s floating around causing trouble. Seriously, legend has it this Jack confronted the devil himself. All Jack Frost did was nip people’s noises and still, he got a bad wrap. But the Jack-O-Lantern and he shared a common interest. Excitement. The pumpkin head was the unofficial head (pun intended) of Halloween and the most notorious for causing more tricks than treats. He focused on the thrill of fright and the adrenaline of excitement without going overboard like Pitch Black. Well. Usually.

“Jack Frost,” His eyes glowed on a ballooned pumpkin head like flashing car lights. Neon light spilled out of his mouth and eyes as if an ember from the devil himself was trapped inside his pumpkin skin. Teeth abnormally sharp for being carved from fruit skin snapped open and closed in a subtle threat, “Come to make trouble?”

“Well, yes,” Jack stayed as far as he could from the children. If he charged in and swept them from danger like he so desperately wanted to- he might get his hand chomped off. It was Halloween and the peak of Jack-O-Lantern's strength. His pumpkin head was ten times as large as the average pumpkin and his teeth were just as sharp, “but not in the way that you’re hoping. See, I don’t know if you know this, but- I’m a Guardian. Of children. And that means I draw the line when it comes to them being eaten. Sorry!”

“I’m hungry Jack,” The Jack-O-Lantern said, “you cannot stop me from feasting on their fear. It is so potent that I can almost taste it.”

He leaned on his staff, “What you need, buddy, is a snickers bar. You’re not being yourself! And it is a candy feast out there. You’re really missing out. All this ‘feasting on fear’ crap sounds like you’re taking lessons from the Boogey Man.”

He heard a child intake a sharp breath at the word and winced. He wasn’t trying to scare the kids anymore than they already were, but he tended to run his mouth when facing an opponent. 

“Pitch awakened a hunger in all of us,” The Jack-O-Lantern hissed, “So much fear. It would be Halloween all year round. So much fright.”

“Buddy, you haven’t eaten a kid in like a century,” Jack tried to reason, “You like to play with them! You can’t eat all of them because then there will be no children to scare.”

The Jack-O-Lantern brought Susan up to his mouth, tauntingly, “This is not your holiday. Your annoying words cannot stop me, Jack Frost.”

“Alright, I figured as much,” He sighed. Reasoning was something he was usually good at, but the Pumpkin had more than just an inflated head. Twiner shifted into a bow and arrow in his hands, but this time the arrowheads were not made of leaves, but polished and sharpened wood, “That’s where you’re wrong. This may be your holiday-“

He exhaled quickly, brought the bow up to his cheek, inhaled, and grinned, “But I’m a Guardian.”

The arrow struck his hollowed eye, though what it actually hit, Jack didn’t know. The pumpkin howled in anger and brought one of his sweeping vines to crash on Jack’s head. With a quick jump, he dodged the vines that curled and grabbed for his ankles or his neck, “And I sort of get a boost when I’m protecting children. See, I have believers now-“

He ducked and crushed a smaller, sneaker vine from curling around his leg with the butt of his staff. Another arrow struck his orange skin that was soft from being hollow and old, “-and that is more powerful than any residual Halloween runoff you get!”

Jack was always seen as a powerful spirit before. No one feared him, per se, but he held his own during fights. Years and years of ‘being picked on’ taught him that. Now with his mere boost of eight (nine? Did Matilda count?) believers gave him a subtle strength in his veins. It wasn’t noticeable during summer when his lethargy overpowered any strength he gained, but as the crisp Autumn breeze and the frost spread across the states, Jack felt physically better than he ever had before. 

Emotionally, however, ha! Jack grinned, well procrastinating feelings was something Jack was very good at. What better way to forget your problems than picking a fight with a Pumpkin who made deals with the devil? Twiner gave the mental equivalent of shaking his head. 

He darted through the trees skipping and twisting to avoid the grabbing vines. They twisted around the oak trees like knotted shoelaces until the vine tugged and suddenly could not reach Jack, who was a mere three inches away. Why make a trap for your enemy when you could make a trap out of your enemy? The only option now was for the pumpkin head to let go of his tasty treats to ensnare Jack.

“Oh, let me help you with that,” said Jack as he stretched the wooden bow with his shoulders. He struck the thick vine that protruded from his side and trapped the children. One after another, Jack shot the wooden arrows through his thick vines until the largest one snapped off and fell limp. It helped that his blazing ice was encased in the wooden arrows. The children gasped in relief as the largest vine slackened around their waist. The other small vines squeezed them in a futile effort and Jack sighed. A sword would be so much better in this situation. Instead, he produced a sharply wooden carved knife out of Twiner and swooped down to slice leftover vines. 

The pumpkin roared, “I am the Jack-O-Lantern! How dare you challenge me on Halloween!”

“You know, I think I like Jack the Pumpkin King waaaay better than you right now,” Jack said with finality as he encased the limbless pumpkin in frost, “And he tried to steal Christmas!” 

The twisted and knotted vines tugged relentlessly on the trees so Jack tapped his staff on them as he would a power line. The frost crawled up the vines as fast as the wind itself and spread over every inch. The October air dropped in temperature ever so slightly and left frosted dew on the forest floor. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Pull too hard and everything shatters,” Jack said, without an inch of remorse, “One wrong move and oops! You’ve lost another limb! I mean, soon you really will just be an overinflated fruit head, which is kinda pathetic, really. On Halloween no less!” 

“Fruit head!” The Pumpkin King roared but wisely chose not to tug on his vines anymore. Jack wasn’t kidding that time, crazy, he knew, but he dropped the temperature enough that the vines really would snap under pressure.

Jack hissed, “Yikes. Am I the first person to tell you that pumpkins are in the fruit family? Well, someone just had a rude awakening.”

“I am no fruit!” He bellowed, “I am Jack! The Jack O Lantern! The-“

“What is with spirits not knowing what they are?” Jack muttered under his breath as he shooed away the vines wrapped around the children’s ankles, “First, the Easter Bunny thinks he doesn’t look like some alien Kangaroo combo and now the Jack O Lantern doesn’t even know he’s a pumpkin!”

“That’s the last time you call me a Fruit head,” He seethed, “Jack Frost.”

Jack stood and jabbed a finger towards the eye that wasn’t closed and dripped weird glowing goo from the arrow he shot there, “You know what? No, Mr. Fruit Head. You're no better than a- than a tomato! Alright? You’re a plant with a mouth, you don’t get to threaten me, and you don’t get to threaten to eat chlordane either!”

Ice spread from his finger and blanketed the Jack O Lanterns spiked mouth in solid ice. Maybe he should have started by freezing over his mouth, but his strategy worked regardless. The Fruit Head was a long-distance fighter and Jack took out his weapons that he depended on. And he found a little bit of joy in doing so. Honestly, these cannibalistic, murderous freaks didn’t know when to stop. He found himself angrily muttering as he turned to the children who were, surprisingly, still there. Assuming they would have run the moment they were free, Jack continued to focus on the Jack-O-Lantern while they escaped. 

Imagine his surprise when one of them spoke, “Are you- are you going to eat us too?”

“What? _Me?_ ” Jack blinked fifteen times, “No! Didn’t you hear my whole speech? I’m a Guardian. Of kids. I help protect you and make sure stuff like this doesn’t happen.”

_‘You can see me?’_ Was on the tip of Jack’s tongue, but at some point, he had to stop looking like he was going to cry every time someone talked to him. Later though, later he could cry about it. 

A boy, the blond kid who didn’t look related to the other two, started to tremble and cry, “He-he tried to eat us!”

The other two sniffled in agreement and sent Jack some fearful looks, still not convinced. Uh-oh, crying. Jack wasn’t good at crying. He knew that much. He wasn’t a very good hugger and these kids might scream if he tried to hug them. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jack scrambled for an answer and fell back on his go-to, “You want to have some fun instead? It’s Halloween and there’s still candy-“

The boy - _Cody_ \- the leaves reminded him - _the most scared. A homebody. He likes to be inside. He didn’t even want to trick or treat this year. There are bullies down the street_ \- spoke up, “No! I want to go home!”

Understandable. It wasn’t the first time a kid had initially rejected his offer for fun. They just needed a little convincing, “Okay, okay. I’ll take you home. You know what? How about I take you home on a sled ride? It will be much faster.”

They looked up at him, hope gleaming in their wide eyes. Their vulnerability and fear mixed with their hope and relief. Jack didn’t want to see fear anymore. He was tired of seeing kids afraid and teary-eyed. Kids were supposed to smile and laugh. Especially on Halloween! They deserved to stuff themselves with sugar high candy and laugh with their friends and pretend to be someone else for a night. How could the Jack-O-Lantern take that away from them- try to take away their lives? 

“A sled?” Susan asked- _though everyone calls her Susie. She is embarrassed by her name_ \- and Jack turned to find their scattered candy bags. 

He grinned at them and with a wave of his hand he produced an ice sled big enough to fit all three of them, handlebars included, “Trust me, you’ll be home in a jiffy!”

Tentatively, the children crawled onto the ice sled and Jack wished that he had something warmer to offer them, “Hold on!”

Truthfully, Jack would never steer as crazy as to make them fall off, but the excitement and a _tiny_ bit of fear that you could fall off made it all the more exciting. With his ice, he coated the forest floor again to insure the pumpkin was secure and used his staff to create an ice trail. With momentum from the wind, the sled took off, looping around some parts of the outer forest and into the streets full of bright lights and happy children. 

“Whoa!” Henry said, and Jack glanced back to see Cody fighting the urge to smile. Leading his ice as a ramp up the side of the wall prolonged the sled ride just a bit. Each tear-stained face was brightening as the wind affectionately tousled their hair, Susan’s spray-painted purple hair, and dried the tears. They tore through a pumpkin patch, and to lessen their fears, Jack turned it into a game. With the crook of his staff, he plucked up a small pumpkin and hit it with his staff as if it were a baseball bat, “So long Fruit Head!” 

It gave him a few giggles so it was worth it to make a fool out of himself. They turned down into the neighborhood again and the leaves whispered the children’s addresses to him. 

“Turn right?” Jack called back to Cody, who wanted to go home the most.

He shouted, “No! Turn left!”

Jack turned left, “Right?”

“No!” At least he was laughing. Other children were staring as they zipped by. Ice was a bit uncommon in South Virginia during October. Okay, it was unheard of- but surely it would blend into the background of all the excitement and chaos of the night. He stopped the sled as a leaf alerted him that the mother in plaid, jeans, and a cowgirl hat was Cody’s mom. 

The sled carved to a stop and the children’s smiles lingered even as it stopped. Jack’s chest hurt a little bit to see Cody’s fade, “This isn’t my house,” his voice trembled in fear. 

“I know,” Jack perched on the ground to his eye level, “You’re mom’s right over there. You’re safe now. Stay in groups, like you did. Always have a buddy, okay? Especially at night. Try to stay in crowds, and if you can, always have an adult around, just in case.”

They all stepped off the sled and huddled around Jack, not close enough to touch, but close enough that they could see his human face and his blue eyes. Susan took a little step forward, “But what if the Jack-O-Lantern tries to-to eat us again? What if something else-“

He placed a hand on her shoulder and boy, didn’t that feel otherworldly. It would take him some time to get used to his physical touch being received, “Let me tell you a secret, okay?”

All three of them looked at him with wide eyes. Wide as Jamies, wide as his sisters, “If you’re ever in trouble, just pick up a leaf- any leaf.” 

Jack demonstrated this by holding a brown leaf between his fingers. Some parts of the leaf were crumpled and flaking off, half of it gone, but it still chattered to him as he touched it- _Jack Frost, Frosty, Messenger of the leaves, oh, I have not seen you in a while! How are you? How am_ I? _Well-_

“And whisper ‘Jack Frost’, and I’ll come to save you. Only when you’re in danger though! Only special occasions, okay? I’m trusting you guys.”

Cody, Henry, and Susan nodded fervently, and Jack smiled. Cody and Henry seemed satisfied with his answer, but Susan insisted one more time, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Jack said, “I’m a Guardian, remember?”

As he stood, he watched the children run towards Cody’s mom. She was talking animatedly on the phone and gasped when she saw them running up to her, “Cody! Oh, Henry! Susan! Yes, yes, Melissa, I found them. I’m on Robinson Road. You kids made us so worried!!” 

She enveloped them in a hug and none of the children protested. Cody sobbed in relief, and Susan and Henry finally relaxed in the arms of a trusted adult. Jack smiled wistfully, picked up his ice sled, and took off. 

* * *

_Creeper. Six O'clock._

How the leaves even knew slang, Jack didn’t know. He didn’t really understand it at all but accepted it. No one else could hear the leaves except Twiner and him, and it was a good thing. Leaves were the _worst_ gossipers. Anything they heard or saw was voiced aloud. Normally, the leaves were talking to each other but loved another listening ear. Jack couldn’t complain, they were helpful more than anything else, but they gave him a headache from time to time. 

_Stalker. Licking his lips. Wolf, probably. Speaking of wolf— did you hear what Kendra Wolfe did to her ex-husband?_

Jack sighed. 

He went up north so that we wouldn’t have to deal with any more pumpkin goblins. Apparently saving kids from the most notorious fright of Halloween didn’t cut it. Jack loved Halloween, he did, but he had already fought off and intimidated demons and spirits more than he talked to them all year. He almost wanted to ask the Guardians for help, but Jack had been doing this since vampires had first shown up to battle. Sure, he might have the biggest headache of the century, but at least he had the leaves to help him out, and Twiner to fight them off by his side. It wasn’t as if he had time to zip up to the North Pole, explain to everyone what was happening, and save the kids he needed to. Jack barely had any time to blink before another leaf cried out on behalf of a human.

“Let’s go see what furry wants,” Jack sighed as he stood and headed in the direction the leaf was twirling. 

Kids were still trick or treating, and Jack strolled down the street, cautiously avoiding any children that might run through him. And there behold- creeper at six o’clock- his… _acquaintance_. 

“Shadowbent,” Jack greeted, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “Did eating tourists get too boring for you?”

He stepped out of the shadows, showing off his beastly form, “They lack hygiene. It’s not healthy for my diet.”

Jack scoffed, crossing his arms, “Right. And innocent children are so much tastier.”

What was with monsters trying to eat kids? Honestly! How many jackasses with a messed up appetite would he have to fight tonight? 

Shadowbent stiffened, “I’ve not ever attacked children.”

Jack glowered, his ice glowing blue, “You turned one.”

At that, he sighed and looked away, “I don’t expect you to understand, Jack.”

It didn’t matter if the kid was about to die- Shadowbent could have saved him. He could have given him a real-life- at least a choice. 

“A broken neck is not a life,” Shadowbent said, “I gave him a new chance.”

Jack said, “But not a choice.”

The ice died down from it’s threatening crackle, and he felt Twiner stirring in the back of his mind and trying to comfort Jack. No words could soothe him, so Jack was glad for the lack of verbal comfort. Sometimes just his presence was enough. At least Twiner agreed with him, really, the only being around here with any kind of common sense and decency.

“So I doubt you’ve come just for the conversation?” Shadowbent prodded. 

Jack scoffed, “Not likely. No. I’m just here to make sure you don’t eat anyone tonight.”

Shadowbent grinned and showed off his thin and narrow sharpened teeth, “Aren’t you the ever hero?”

“So!” Jack flipped upside down, using only the wind to support him, and ignored his sarcastic comment, “Who do you have your justice-seeking-eye on tonight?”

Shadowbent fell silent for a moment, refusing Jack the satisfaction of a quick answer. The bastard. It was always like this with him; a game, a chase, a hunt. Sure, he was serious as could be, but there was a sort of manipulation and sick thrill that Shadowbent had for his method of bringing justice, “There is an old man who is refusing to give candy to children.”

“An old man. Wow. Is it just your thing to prey on the weak and innocent? He’s an old man! Sure, he might be grumpy but-“

The werewolf cut him off, “He is opening the door, offering candy, only to refuse it to them as he proceeds to mock and make fun of them. He is a bully.”

Oh. Jack really didn’t like bullies. That- they both had in common. Shadowbent and his werewolf band had a thing for justice. Eating and mauling those who had wronged them and gotten away with it. Jack wasn’t perfect, of course, he wasn’t. To live three hundred years and say he hadn’t killed anyone would be a lie. (He could count the number on a single hand and had the memories seared into his mind.) There were winters he gave a God-like blizzard. There were frostbitten fingers to those who used their hands for evil. Jack wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t. But killing was never his first option and never something he enjoyed. 

“Look, I’m either going to have to stop you,” Jack started and Shadowbent bristled and rose himself to his tallest height, “Or- OR! We could compromise.”

Shadowbent huffed, “It didn’t think you’d be interested in helping.”

Jack chirped, “I’m not! But I know what will really piss the old man off and give him a run for his money. The kids will love it. I’ll love it- I’m pretty sure you’ll think it’s funny with your dark humor and all. And nobody dies!” 

.

..

...

They TP-ed his house. 

“This is stupid.”

“This is FUN.”

Jack launched a roll over his overly large house- seriously why did he need it? He lived all alone and his only joy was to hurt kids' feelings on Halloween night. A tangle of toilet paper wrapped up in his large trees in his back yard, and Jack took quiet satisfaction in the perfect arc of his toilet paper roll as it was tossed over the roof. Now that was going to be hard for him to clean up. Shadowbent, despite his complaining, was working studiously to perfectly decorate the Scrooge’s house meticulously with patterns. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The old man sneered at a kid who was dressed as a deer. Their painted little pink nose quivered at the blatant insult and the older siblings next to them bristled in shock and anger, “Bambi? I thought I shot that fucker already.”

Jack said, “Okay. This guy totally needs to be TP-ed.”

“Or killed,” Shadowbent provided helpfully. 

“TP-ed to the highest degree.”

Jack glowered as the kid sniffled and ran away from the house. A loud chuckle from the old man gave Jack enough fuming rage to aim the toilet paper roll in his direction. 

“Watch this,” Jack nudged a furred shoulder and promptly socked the old man in the face. It bounced harmlessly off of his bloated nose and his wrinkled face scrunched up in what only could be described as mindless rage. A deep, malicious chuckle sounded from Shadowbent as he continued to toss around the toilet paper. The old man began shouting at anything that moved, blaming the kids that passed in front of his house. Going on about teenagers and well, he wasn't wrong per se. Jack was a three-hundred-year-old irresponsible teenager. 

His favorite part though, was running from the old man. Answer solved- people did see the objects that he carried. This man was chasing a floating toilet paper roll around his house. Jack could not figure out if he was half-blind or just crazy. 

“You think this is funny, huh?” The man bellowed, swatting his hand at the object that was hovering a few feet over him, “Show yourself!” 

Jack muffled his snickers in the palm of his hand and glanced at Shadowbent with a look of ‘are you seeing this?’. A few rounds around the house and the man was still going, wheezing and bending over to catch his breath, but relentless all the same. Jack didn’t give the bully the luxury of catching him, but he slowed down just enough for it to be an actual chase to wear him out. 

“Toss it here, Jack!” Shadowbent called, and Jack easily tossed the object of the man’s frustrations into the paws of a wolf. 

The man raged at an inanimate object, “You fucker! Get back here!”

Now Shadowbent- the old man could see. It was Halloween, a full moon at that, and the people Shadowbent brought justice to could always see him. The old man stopped so fast Jack thought his knees might give out. 

“What?” Shadowbent crept closer and on all fours, “Not a fan of _catch_?” His jaws snapped with the motion as if he were trapping the cruel human in his teeth. 

The man stumbled backward, hand reaching for a gun that was not there, “Well, you’re in luck. I’m not in the mood to play either. But... if I find you cruelly mocking another person or child again, I will _catch_ you between my teeth and rip you to shreds. Understand?” 

Shadowbent let out another growl, “Understand?”

The man ran. Jack hummed, “Not the best joke I’ve ever heard.”

“Jack, I cannot promise you that this man won’t be my next meal.” Shadowbent didn’t sound remorseful.

He shook his head, “Seriously could have been better. I was kinda thinking you got better at your whole villainous monologue.”

Shadowbent snapped, “Insult my pun again, and I will find another reason to threaten him with a better pun and actually fulfill it.”

Scowling, Jack turned to him, “What? Knobby knees and beer gut you’re favorite appetizer?”

“Jack,” His voice cut, “You know that my hunger is unrelentless for those who are cruel and unjust.”

He sighed heavily and gave the roll in his hands a powerful pitch to echo his frustrations, “No, I get it, revenge and all that, but could you just like- freak him out a little bit more before you decide to eat him? Maybe he’s like Scrooge. Maybe you need to scare the shit out of him to make him realize what a god-awful person he had been before he changes. And really, I don’t like him, but maybe he has a family. Maybe he lost his wife like that guy from UP and is cranky and mean, but actually a good person inside-“

“Alright!” Shadowbent cursed and stalked towards the woods, “I will wait to ease your conscience.”

“You’ll give him a chance?” Jack asked, hopeful. 

“I’ll give him judgment,” The wolf paused and turned his head, “I will always admire you for your nobility. But I do not trust your justice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters  
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Ahua/Kahua- Aster’s and Hani’s Doa and Eamon’s Doe  
> Eamon/Amon- Aster’s and Hani’s Buca and Ahua’s Buck  
> Hani/Khani- Aster’s brother and twin light
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience
> 
> Jack O Lantern- Bill Joyce also drew this guy on his insta (heybilljoyce) and doodled him with the Three Little Scares. I think he’s some sort of leader over them and also a sorta friend to Jack Frost. They both get into mischief that’s for sure. 
> 
> Shadowbent- His name is Skreeklavic Shadowbent and he is the leader of the Werewolvian Hordes of the Carpathian Mountains (the wildest, most primordial part of Translyvania according to Bill Joyce) They are humans who become beasts to fight injustice. “Is he a friend to Jack Frost? Perhaps.”
> 
> And- of course the leaves. I gave them a bit more character than probably warranted but I couldn’t help myself. 
> 
> What Bunny’s name means is purely fictional and I took creative liberty to add that into the Pookan culture. Also! On wiki it was mentioned that Pooka have extremely short childhoods, like a day, they said, so I decided to mess around with the idea and thought it would be cool if the Pooka’s celebrated Childhood Week- or Childhood Phase, though the kit’s themselves take about a hundred cycles to fully grow.


	7. It can’t be gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death and shapeshifters-who-kidnap-and-eat-children. Fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> (Thought I might add the ‘key’ up here)
> 
> ~Warning: Blood and gore. Mentions of death and decomposition~

  
**999 CYCL BMiM**  
**E. Aster Bunnymund age: 1 CYCL. Third Day of Childhood Phase**

His heart thumped in his chest at the speed of the shifting clouds in the sky on a windy day. He clenched his small dirt-caked fingers into a fist and breathed through his pink nose once more. 

This was it. 

This was it. It _had_ to be it. 

Aster gave a brilliant smile of hope to encourage himself, gritting his teeth together, and shot off the ground with a powerful kick of his hind legs. He used all of his limbs and every muscle in his lean, hardly developed body to propel him forwards. He may be small, but he was fast! Maybe not as fast as Buca, but this time- this time-

He leaped into the air, just like Buca, and squeezed his eyes shut when vertigo hit his stomach- this was it-

His face smashed into the dirt. 

Coughing and spitting out the dust that he had inhaled and somehow gotten stuck on the back of his tongue, Aster pulled himself up from his crumpled form. He tried to brush off the dirt on his bruised and scraped elbows, but it was an impossible task with the plume of dust that surrounded him from his fall and running start. 

Aster waved his hand through the air to dispel the dust and glanced at the barely rising double suns on the horizon with a grin, “So close! Next time for sure. For sure.”

It would be difficult to run through time, Aster knew. He had never seen any other Pooka, not even Doa, run so fast that they sped through time. Doa was too big, she admitted, too heavy to be as lithe and quick as Buca. Well, Aster would just have to train until _he_ was as lithe and quick as Buca. Most Pooka gave up on running through time and didn't even know how! There was no way something as amazing as running through time was something _no one_ was interested in. So, Aster assumed they just were too busy to try it or gave up too soon. It was only the fifth solannos that Aster had tried and failed to run through time. He had a whole thousand cycles to go before he gave up on it! 

Again he went back to his starting line, a line drawn in the dust by his foot, and readied his stance before he barreled forwards again. _Fast, fast, fast as I can!_ Aster thought as he stared at the barely clearing dust he kicked up and refused to think about how much it would hurt a tenth time to crash into the rocky dirt- because Aster wasn’t going to crash this time. He was going to run straight through time! Just like Buca! 

“Buca?”Aster startled at the shadow of his father’s form that was at the end of his finish line. This morning, Buca had left, and to see his form nearing him through the dust shadow lifted Aster’s spirits even more, “Buca!”

He started to run towards him, just as if he were preparing to travel through time, but a bit slower. Aster didn’t want to accidentally run through time when Buca had just come home. He leaped into the air, knowing full well that Buca would catch him, and he did- but not in the way Aster expected. His breath caught in his throat forcefully as Buca grabbed the back of his pelt instead of catching Aster by the arms and pulling him in for an embrace. Aster nearly choked at the stopping momentum of Buca grabbing his scruff as he leaped towards him. With the pressure around his throat, Aster could barely form a question, as Buca lifted him closer to his face, staring at him with black eyes. Not green. Not green like they were supposed to be. 

With startling clarity, Aster suddenly realized he could not see the glowing aura of Buca’s green glow and his blue sparkling core. In fact, there was no light at all. With the sinking first fear Aster had ever felt, he curled in on himself and closed his eyes, searching for the light that Buca usually gave off. Where did it go? Buca was empty. His light was gone. It couldn't be gone. His light was what made Buca, Buca! Where did it-

His eyes snapped open as he felt the hand shift from holding the back of his neck to gripping the base of his ears. It _hurt_ and Aster squealed, a high-pitched noise that Aster never knew he could make. He cried as Buca lifted him entirely by the grip on his ears, closer to his face and his lightless eyes. Buca- not Buca- opened his mouth and fangs, sharper than Aster had seen on any animal, protruded from his opened mouth. With fear thundering in his small chest, Aster realized this creature with the absence of his Buca’s light was going to eat him. 

“Aster!” Doa’s light roared to life in his peripheral vision and her voice matched the blazing heat of her light. Doused in fear, Aster responded only in high pitched wails and panicked struggles to get closer to her and _away_ from this monster. 

“With light and hope, I banish thee Anguish!” Doa screamed as she hurled towards the monster's form, with curved knives of translucent matter swinging towards its head. Before the knives made contact with the monster's head, its head disappeared, shifting into a lower form as it ducked. Aster yelped as he was suddenly free of its grasp, only to be swallowed in the suffocating grip of a scaled snake-like figure, ten times as large. Its body consisted only of seven long, thick tails attached to a single head of fangs and lightless beads of seven eyes. Two of its tails were tied around Aster, squeezing him so hard he was sure his head would pop right off his neck. So tight he could not scream, nor see anything with his visual eyes. Instead, he watched the black expanse around him and flicker of light in front of him, Doa’s. The monster, Anguish, Doa had called it, screamed and thrashed as Doa attacked it, but never once released its hold on Aster. He gasped, trying to breathe and only succeeding in wheezing what little amount he could back into his lungs. In the corner of his vision, he saw Hani’s light flicker with agitation as Aster’s started to dim. He focused on the two balls of burning light and hoped that maybe their blazing light would stoke his own. Aster didn’t want to know what happened when his light would go out. Maybe he would disappear. Maybe he would turn into this monster with no light and try to eat his own family. 

Aster cried with no sound or breath and opened his eyes again, looking up at the racing clouds in his vision. 

“I banish thee Anguish!” Another voice called, louder, less angry, and more fearful than Doa’s, and with the words, Aster could breathe again. He choked on the inhale and with the exhale, he cried, loud and hurt and afraid. Anguish was shrinking and its grip was lessening with every second. When it was barely the width of Aster’s arm, the light of blue and green ripped the Anguish off of Aster. Into Buca’s arms he fell, and it was the real Buca this time. Blinking rapidly, Aster caught glimpses of the blue core raging under his Buca’s chest until it left dancing after images on his eyelids. _The light was still there._

“Buca,” Aster sobbed, “Buca. Buca.”

Curling over his kit, Eamon was not simply hugging Aster, but protecting him and guarding him with his own body as a shield. His very stance screamed something nearly feral and entirely instinctual. As he growled at the creature he simultaneously cupped Aster’s head gently, “I’m here.” 

He opened his eyes to see Doa holding Anguish by its head and its seven slithering tails whipped tirelessly at Doa’s hands and arm. 

She cut off its head.

Blood splattered and a drop fell onto Aster’s cheek as it dropped to the ground. Aster looked at it. His own blood rushed to the top of his head and back down to his toes; the same feeling as falling through the air too fast as he tried to leap into time. It’s black eyes rolled and landed on Aster, seeming to hate him, blame him, with little life it had left. 

Aster had never seen anything die before. 

“Aster,” Doa stepped in front of the dead creature and reached out her hands. Aster fell into them, numb, “You’re okay, kit. You’re okay. You’re safe. Don’t be afraid.” 

Aster was tucked into her chest and he struggled to lift his head onto her shoulder to see the Anguish, “Aster- _Aster_ , what are you trying to do, kit? It won’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe. You’re-“

“Will it wake up?” Aster’s voice croaked, his voice sore from nearly suffocating, “Will it-“

“What?” 

“-wake up?” He gripped her fur terrified, hopeful, devastated, relieved, “Will it wake up? Why is it- is it looking at me? Is it sleeping? Will it heal? Can you- can you put it back? Why-“

“No,” Buca said, gentle but firm, “No it will not wake up, Aster. It’s dead, and it can’t hurt you anymore.”

But he didn’t want that, did he? He didn’t want to be eaten, he didn’t want that thing to wear his Buca’s face without his Buca’s eyes, he didn’t want to see that blood that dripped from each detached tail, he didn’t want to see its eyes that looked at him and blamed him. He didn’t want it dead. 

Doa tucked his head back into her chest, away from the sight of the Anguish and her grip was so firm it almost reminded him of the monster’s suffocating tails knotted around his throat.

“Doa,” He squeaked, but didn’t dare resist Doa’s grip, the grip that cut that thing’s head off so easily-

Doa instantly loosened her grip on him, so loose he held her fur harder as to not fall to the ground, and Aster could breathe again. Gently, Doa chinned the top of his head and whispered, “I’m so _sorry_ , flower,” and Aster remembered that he was her purple flower, her family. He remembered the fear in her voice, and the light that blazed with so much emotion it was the only concrete thing Aster could latch to. Now he closed his eyes and burrowed closer to that light, trying to drown himself in it. 

“You protect me,” Aster whispered, hopeful, scared, so so confused. He brushed his cheek against Doa’s fur and nearly recoiled when he found blood from the Anguish there. 

She walked forwards, away from the blood-stained road, and towards the burrow that held Hani’s anxious light. Her fingers twitched with the urge to tighten around Aster, but didn’t, “Buca and I will always protect you, Aster. I will always protect my family.”

“But not the Anguish,” Aster said, almost afraid to voice the question.

“No,” Her light flared up angrily, but not at him, “Not the Anguish. I will protect you _from_ the Anguish.” 

Aster mumbled, quietly, and Doa’s ears twitched to pick it up, “It had no light.”

Without responding, Doa climbed back down to their burrow where the darkness and richness of the dirt were comforting in a way the blackness of the Anguish’s lightless form had not been. Hani made no sound as he scrambled towards them and pawed at Aster as Doa set him down in their nest. His brother’s heartbeat with the same tempo his light flickered and he hugged Aster so close he could both hear and feel it, “Hani.”

Hani tucked Aster underneath his chin and nuzzled his head in a jerky panicked motion instead of responding. Doa left, almost drawing an anxious whine from Aster, but he stopped when he realized she was washing the blood off of her fur with water since dust would not work. By the time she had come out of the kitchen, shivering with the dampness, Buca had entered the burrow. Aster squeezed his eyes shut and stared at the light in his core, just to make sure. Then, both his Buca and his Doa laid in their nest and scooped up Aster and Hani and held them close until all they consisted of was a light as bright as a sun, burrowed in one little nest. 

…

“There was a Pooka, a good and noble member of the council. He watched over the other animals of the planet and made sure there was peace between them and the Pooka.”

“Like the busach tails?” 

“Like the busach tails. In fact, he was the one to propose we herd them and make sure we have enough food to share. He told the Arivum Pooka to regrow the grass they ate every night and make sure they were satisfied. Or else, the busach just might eat all of the plants off the entire planet!” 

“So this good and noble Pooka kept the peace with the animals and the Pooka, and because he spent so much time negotiating the peace and studying the animals, he started to love them more than his own species. He shifted into the animals whenever he pleased, to understand them more, to study them, to help them. His intentions were good, but the more he shifted, the more they thought like the animals he became. He roared like a Sgiadha and bared his teeth like a Tiliter and even struck one of the members of the council with a tail of a Busach. They agreed to remove him from the council and his Doe refused to take his side. The Pooka had become an animal, he had become what he shifted, and was no longer the good and noble Pooka he once was. He wasn’t even a Pooka.”

“What happened next?”

“They exiled him. He was banished from the Collie Pooka, but no one from the council knew where he fled to because he shifted into the smallest Itea and flew away. He fled to the Arivum clan, hoping to find mercy amongst them and to find his Doe who rejected him. When he found his Doe, he shifted into a Tiliter to sneak into her burrow and speak to her. Every time she would banish him, and everything he returned, he caused her more anguish. She refused him, seven times! And still, the animal Pooka did not respect her wishes. With every refusal, his Tiliter form grew another tail until he had seven tails of venom and seven times as much anguish and hatred for the Pooka species. Though he was devastated, the creature was cunning and smart. One day he slithered into the Doe’s nest and spied on her, without confronting her. What he saw was the Doe with a broken hatchling egg, holding their kit. The Doe had kept it a secret that they were to have a kit because she feared how the turned Pooka would influence their kit. Seeing the newly hatched kit, the creature grew so envious and full of hatred that he vowed to give the Doe as much anguish as she had given him. When her back was turned, the creature slithered into the nest and-“

“No!”

“And he ate the kit.”

“No!”

“It’s alright, Aster. I know it’s sad and it’s not fair, but we have to tell the kit's story so that it doesn’t happen again, okay? The kit would have wanted his story to be shared so kits and Pookas know not to shift too far from who they are, and to beware of the Anguish creatures.”

“There’s more than one?!”

“Yes, Hani, the first Anguish created more creatures that are full of nothing but hatred and anguish and hunger for something that will never be satisfied.”

“That’s scary. And sad. His own Buca… ate him.”

“The Anguish pretends to be a kit’s Buca to lure them in, and that is why we must teach you the evil the Anguish is.”

“How do you know that it's not your Buca?”

“The eyes. It has the eyes of an animal.”

Black, bitter, lightless. 

* * *

**Autumn 2012, November 4th**  


  
The leaves wake him up.

_Jack!_

Insistent calling, pleading, _Jack!_

It hurts his head and stirs something uncomfortable deep within him- dread. The world is black in the two spaces where he’s closed his eyelids, even the dreamscape of his consciousness is blank. His eyes won’t open, and the world is still dark. The darkness starts to panic him, but his limbs feel heavy, as though there is not enough strength, not enough oxygen flowing through them to move. His nerves seem to light up in terror at the thought, and Jack wonders if he can even breathe here. Here where it is dark, and he cannot move, and he cannot _breathe_. Where the ice digs into his side and there’s a voice, always a _voice_ calling for him. A voice he can never reach. 

_Jack!_

He gasps and sits up; his eyes burst open and a million colors flood into them. Dizzy from it all, Jack blinks rapidly, but he does not close his eyes to the darkness again. He takes a shuddering breath, only one, before the voice comes back, full force, _Jack, look out!_

In a second, Jack is up, yanked from his spot by the wind, and cupped in her great hands. It only takes him a moment to realize that a man was standing just over the place Jack had been resting. It was just a few days after November 2nd, the end of the holiday where Jack had been tirelessly defending humans. It started out exciting- the candy, the culture, the children, but the only thing Jack felt at the end of it was exhaustion. He didn’t even know he had passed out on the snow.

Now all Jack felt was apprehensive weariness. He was _tired_ , goddamn it. There were attacks on the children, on the adults, and definitely on _him_ throughout the weeks, and Jack hadn’t come out of it unscathed, oh no. He had a pretty collection of blue marks on his body to add to the scars that carved into his skin like a widdler takes to wood. 

Usually, he would fly to the Oak of Sorrows to rest, heal with his natural ointments and herbs, and patch up his parted skin with some needles Oak kept around just in case he tore up his clothes or his body. But Jack just collapsed instead. In the middle of some strange woods, the indentation of Jack’s form laid on the snow with scattered leaves fallen around him, keeping him company. One yellow leaf, in particular, flew up to Jack’s shoulder with the help of the wind and said, _He’s been staring at you. Just Staring. Not human. Don’t know what it is but not right. Not right._

Another leaf murmured, _Three were killed after you slept, two were kidnapped, Lily and Kate-_

_Shadowbent killed the old man-_

_The Jack O Lantern escaped-_

“Who are you?” Jack said out loud, “What do you want?”

The man looked up at him with a handsome face. His nose was as broad as his shoulders, and his lips were full and tilted in an almost smile. Shifting his head to the side, the man said, “You are not a child.”

“I’m a seasonal sprite,” Jack said and flinched when the man’s eyes blinked sideways. A common trait among Ijiraq. 

“Not a human,” The thing said.

“Neither are you,” Jack gripped his staff and mentally thanked the leaves and Twiner for waking him up and the Wind for lifting him to safety. The wind swirled around Jack, and the leaves’ chatter stopped as they spun around him. The leaves still had much to say, but they were excellent listeners. And the wind was nothing if not protective. 

The man smiled, but it was a grin of a thing that hadn’t quite gotten used to smiling, “I am curious. With humans. The spirits tend to get in my way, but you… you look like a human. Are you pretending, as I?”

“I’m not _pretending_ to be human,” Jack spat, “I’m not a fake, like you.”

The creature with a man’s face waited patiently for his answer, and Jack debated between leaving and answering his question. According to the leaves, Jack had a lot of work to do and he couldn’t afford to chit-chat with a morbidly curious spirit. 

“I used to be,” Jack clarified, “But I’m not exactly anymore. I’m a seasonal sprite, and I don’t have time for this.”

The Ijiraq called, “Oh, wait. Please, do come down. It’s so hard for me to talk to you up there.”

“No thanks!” Jack hopped on his staff and gripped it with his feet, “I like it up here, actually, and I plan to stay up here. In fact, I need to go, so if we’re, uh, done here, I have things to do.”

“If height is the issue,” The voice of the creature that was so far away previously, echoed right in his ear, “That can be arranged.”

“Whoa!” Jack barked his alarm and jerked away. The wind screeched in anger and tried to forcibly push the Ijiraq away. His face still held a man, but his fingers had shifted into talons and wings angrily protruded from his back. 

Jack started to turn in the direction of away before the Ijiraq got comfortable and decided to make Jack his plaything. Of course, it was never that easy. The trouble that Jack got himself into had a habit of being overly difficult to get rid of. Apparently, Jack couldn’t even sleep without the bad luck following him, and, in this case, the bad luck was creepy shapeshifter spirits that were known to be morbidly fascinated with humans. So much so that they tended to kidnap them.

“I wouldn’t want you to-“ The Ijiraq lunged for Jack and managed to catch his ankle with his talons, “slip away!”

Jack hissed at the knife-like appendages digging into his ankle and said, “You know what? That’s _it_!”

Swinging his staff around like an executioner’s ax, Jack blasted ice from its tip when it made contact with his neck. Instead of slicing him through with a knife, the ice blades cut through the feathered flesh there just as nicely. The Ijiraq growled in pain and dug its claws into Jack’s ankle deeper, “I just want to talk little blue sprite. You are a curious little thing, and I haven’t come about many curious beings in some time.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack bit, tired and more than a little pissed off, “How long is ‘some time’, _buddy?_ ‘Cause I’ve been around for three hundred years, and this isn't the first time someone’s been ‘curious’ about me, you-“

The Ijiraq interjected, “You definitely _talk_ like a human.”

“Yeah, well good riddance, alright! While you’ve got some perverted fascination with them, I’m actually trying to save humans from monsters like you! So I’d appreciate it if you _let go of me,_ ” Jack growled less of a ‘suggestion’ and more of a threat with the icy bite in his voice and the torrential boom in the wind. 

He smashed his staff on the base of the talon’s knuckles and spread spiked ice through his hand and up to his arm where it exploded onto his wings with a painful blast. The Ijiraq screamed as it fell and its talons desperately tore through the tendons in Jack’s ankle and under the base of his foot. As it dropped through the air, immobilized by Jack’s paralyzing ice, he caught a glimpse of the Ijiraq’s true form and winced at the monstrous caribou skull and the shriveled antlers atop his head. 

“Jeez,” Jack shot up into the Earth’s atmosphere, “Those things give me the creeps.”

The blood was trickling down his foot in almost a ticklish manner before it left a droplet trail in the air behind him. A lone leaf stuck to the fabric of Jack’s shoulder, and he plucked up the yellow leaf as he flew away. 

“So, I’ve got my work cut out for me, huh?”

_No_ , the leaf said, sadly, _there is nothing to be done for it already happened._

There’s always, always someone he misses. An abduction. A murder. Someone ‘dying of fright’. The leaves tell him about it in the morning. When it’s humans there’s not much he can do, but spirits he can confront. The spirits are violent or cruelly insane, and somehow there were double the amount this year. It was no doubt because of the little fright fest Pitch initiated that made the malicious spirits stir in their graves. Sometimes all it took was fear to form another spirit. More powerful spirits, like the Guardians, were mortal beings before they represented and encompassed wonder, hope, joy- but the spirits like the Little Scares or winter sprites were crafted in the minds of mortals or Mother Nature. Breathed into existence with words and superstitions and curses that fogged up the air. The Ijiraq was formed with curses and the disturbing tale of a mortal that Jack wasn’t quite sure if it was true or exaggerated to scare children. All it took was a few creative minds to temporarily bring something to life. In this case, a few creepy storytellers had decided to go a little crazy with the shapeshifter-who-kidnaps-and-eats-children idea. Until recently, Jack thought that was the way he was created. Superstition. Whispered words of a boy who caused mischief. A figure to blame for the biting frost on their red-tipped noses. Just an expression or not- Jack could fight the superstitions. Whether it came in the form of a cursed figure or the violent winter wind.

Humans, though, were difficult. Per the norm. A scream in an alleyway, a broken window, a phone call that never quite made it to the police. All things Jack was unable to prevent. His hand went right through the man with the gun. His sympathy was never received by the boy hiding his bruised face with a Halloween mask. Although Jack did what he could: a frostbitten hand, a gust of wind to knock the attacker off their feet, an iced floor, he never could fully stop them. Children didn’t believe in him, least of all adults. At most he was a phantom spirit that gave them violent chills with his presence. 

_Shadowbent killed the old man,_ the leaf piped up and shuttered violently when Jack glowered, and his frost simmered in anger, _well… he aided in killing him. He told us to tell you that “Justice was preserved through me. And if not through me then I sufficiently through the law.”_

“The law?” Jack asked. 

_Shadowbent caught the old man hurting people. Hurting women in a way he ought not to. Said he had done it for a long time. Shadowbent turned one of the women the man hurt. She ate him._

“I...” Jack sighed, surprised to feel his anger vanish so quickly, but it was most likely the exhaustion melting away any strong feelings like morning dew in the afternoon, “Well, I guess that’s that then.”

_There wasn’t anything more you could do, Jack,_ Twiner reassured and Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “The Jack O Lantern?”

_Free. Gone. None of the leaves can detect where he escaped to._

Jack mumbled, “At least he’s not eating any more children.”

With his flight, the little yellow leaf told him of his failures, and Jack mentally cataloged every single one. Barbra, a sweet old lady and the owner of a now homeless cat. Samantha, or Sam as he liked to be known, was murdered for the shortness of his hair. Nathan, with two parents waiting for a child that will never come home. Since he lost his memory, Jack was determined not to forget anything important and that included the lives that had been lost, that Jack failed to save. The two that had been kidnapped, Lily and Kate, as the first leaf initially told him in his first moments of consciousness, were being held by humans, not shifty caribou skull spirits disguised as humans. Though the Ijiraq did have a habit of kidnapping people. 

The victims couldn’t see Jack, which was disappointing. All throughout the night, Jack had been surprised to find more kids accidentally seeing and believing him as he saved them from soul-crushing and scull munching evil entities. A downer and a plus in his book. If saving children meant he would have more believers then, hey, kill two birds with one stone. But if gaining a believer meant giving a poor kid a traumatic experience for the rest of their life then it wasn’t worth it anymore. No believers gained, Jack resorted to the old ways. He popped open a window and managed to loosen the ties around their wrist enough for them to slip out on their own. From there, he carved a frost trail on the asphalt to safety. A good nudge in the right direction. Superstition won out in the end, and the victims ended up following his trail of friendly frost to the police station. The flower and fern-like decorations of frost helped convince the girls that the winter chill was not malicious.

He ducked to peek into the window and found two blankets cast over the girls' shoulders as they were ushered to a safe place. Jack released a long breath and slumped against the police station. If one more thing popped out of the bushes and said ‘boo!’ Jack was going to ice solid that said thing. Even if it were the Little Scares. So help him-

“Jack!”

He jerked up, staff in hand and eyes darting about widely until they landed on the kid-form in front of him. It was Jamie who stopped just a few feet in front of Jack as he saw him gripping his staff protectively. Grinning and swiping his bloodied foot behind his other leg, Jack said, “Jamie! Hey, kiddo, what are you doing around here?”

“Me? What are _you_ doing around here!” Jamie perked up immediately, “You didn’t tell me you were going to visit!”

“Visit? What am I- oh,” Jack looked around. This was definitely Burgess. They were even standing parallel to the statue Jamie had nearly crashed into when he first met him. 

Jamie bounced up and down in his spot, “I can’t believe you're here! You’re really here! I thought you-“ he paused, his wide eyes fixed on Jack’s tired ones as he stopped himself, “Oh. Jack? Are you okay?” 

“Hmm?” He raised his eyebrows and skipped his non-wounded foot in the air a bit to display his carefree attitude, “Oh, I’m doing great, Jamie. How was your Halloween?” 

He thanked his lucky stars that Jamie was safe during Halloween. The leaves around this area kept a special eye on the Burgess kids for Jack, knowing how much he cared for them. They reported only one creeper that Jamie and his large group of friends banished by unconscious smart thinking: sticking to crowds, moving into the light under the street lamps, catching up with their parents supervising from afar. Jack smiled proudly when the leaves whispered Jamie’s small but triumphant feats and the amount of chaos and fun the group had during Halloween. 

Jamie lit up, conveniently forgetting about his concern when reminded of Halloween, “It was great! I got so much candy I filled my whole pillowcase! Sofie keeps stealing my candy though so I have to hide it somewhere new every day.” 

Jack laughed, the noise feeling as light and happy as it sounded. Man, this kid- this kid was his favorite, “Well I don’t know whether to root for Sofie or you! I kind of encourage that sort of mischief, you know.” 

“My side, Jack!” Jamie exclaimed, nearly outraged at the idea that Jack would pick his sister’s side, “You’re always supposed to be on my side!” 

“Alright, alright, let’s see if I can help you find some perfect future hiding spots,” Jack agreed and iced over his ankle and foot thick enough that the blood wouldn’t seep through as he flew overhead and avoided putting any weight on his injury. 

Jamie exclaimed, “You can stay?!”

“Course I can,” Jack said, excited at the prospect of having fun with his favorite believer. When was the last time someone was excited about Jack Frost’s company? “I mean, I’ve run out of the saving the world doodad, so I should be good until Christmas. I’ll pop by every so often this winter, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Jack did feel a little bad for not visiting his first believer. It crossed his mind initially when he leaped out of North’s workshop window, but the thought of Oaky, of his lake, of seeing people so soon… yeah. Better to go literally everywhere first. _As Bunny said_ , Jack thought bitterly, _I’m a procrastinator_. 

He floated above Jamie as the kid babbled endlessly about his Halloween adventures, bringing a bright grin to his face. Jack flipped upside down in the air and Jamie laughed, delighted. Hey, he’s supposed to keep the injury above his head right?

_Jack_ , Twiner murdered anxiously and his staff jerked towards his foot on his own. 

In response, Jack tugged his staff away from his injury and nodded at something Jamie said, _I’ll be fine._

They entered his house, sneaking in through the window with Jack using Twiner to hook onto Jamie’s hoody as he lifted him through, much to the kid's delight. After scanning his room for key hiding spots, Jack said, “What’s this?” 

At his curious poking at the small object on his nightstand, Jamie laughed, “It’s a Christmas tree, silly. I should tell Santa you don’t even know what a Christmas tree looks like!” 

“Oh, please. Spare me,” Jack said, laughing at the thought of that conversation, “but why do you have a Christmas tree in November? Halloween barely ended!” 

Jamie shrugged, “My dad likes decorating early. Sofie has a little Christmas tree in her room too.” 

“Is Christmas your favorite holiday?” Jack asked, and Jamie bit his lip. Kids usually picked the big rambunctious holiday full of presents and the mystical idea of magic in the air. Not that Jack could blame him. Christmas was literally in his element.

“Um, no actually,” Jamie glanced at the stuffed rabbit sitting in the center of his bed and half mumbled, “Easters my favorite.”

“Yeah? Why?” Jack found himself smiling broadly. Why? No clue. Might be because he was imagining North’s outraged face if he heard. Not imaging the glowing pride in Bunny’s. No, why would that make him smile?

Jamie scoffed at Jack, “‘Cause that’s when I met you, obviously!”

Jack said automatically, “Obviously,” because that’s just what you do, but his mind was still reeling from what Jamie just said. His smile was nearly radiating now, and Jack turned his head to hide how pleased he was at the information. Take _that_ Bunny!

“And- and the other guardians,” Jamie backtracked, sounding embarrassed, “The Easter Bunny is really cool.” 

“Really cool, huh? Don’t tell him that. It will inflate his ego even more.” Jack smirked, but his eyes were glossier than normal and practically transparent. How great was it that Jamie liked Easter because of _Jack?_

Jack then frowned, remembering the broken color of green when Easter was gone when someone walked through Bunny’s center and Jack watched it happen. He thought it would feel satisfying. Like karma had come around and eaten the words Bunny spit in his face. All Jack felt was the million of people that walked through him all combined into one excruciating moment. “Or maybe do. I don’t know. That might make him happy, or whatever.” 

Jamie smiled that mysterious kid smile, “Are you friends with the Easter Bunny?”

“Yeah, I dunno,” Jack flipped onto his dresser and peeked into the dark corner where a potential candy pillowcase could fit, “It’s complicated. We argue a lot.”

Jack barked out a laugh and pointed at Jamie with his staff, “And! Speaking of Christmas, I just found out I have to get him a present this year. Maybe I’ll just tell him that you like Easter better for his Christmas gift.”

Jamie grinned and started to say something when he glanced at a motion that caught his eye. A falling drop of blue. It seeped into the carpet before Jack could open his mouth to ask Jamie what was wrong.

“Jack! You’re leaking blue!” Jamie darted forwards, “Is that your _blood?_ ”

Jack jerked and brought his leg up to his chest defensively. He iced it over repeatedly, cursing the warm temperature of Jamie’s room, “Oh, shi- shoot. I’m really sorry. I’ll clean it up, yeah? Where does your mom keep your cleaning supplies?”

“No, Jack!” Jamie tugged him down from the top of the closet, “You’re hurt! We have to find my mom's first aid kit. It’s in the kitchen, come on.” 

His hand, small and warm compared to his own, latched onto Jack’s and refused to let go as he led him down the stairs to their kitchen cabinets. It was the longest form of contact Jack could remember. Holding hands with a kid, Jack smiled, last time the kid was his sister tugging him out the door and onto the ice. If Jack could remember more than his sister’s warm smile and brown eyes, then maybe Jack would stop comparing the two so much, but it was unconscious at this point. Now that Jack had a fraction of his own past to fall back on, he was constantly trying to match up pieces of his present with his past. To fill in the gaps, to answer some questions, to make sense of anything that swirled around in his brain for centuries of questions alone. 

Jamie ordered him to sit down while he rummaged through a plastic container of all sorts of medicines spilling out. Amused and oddly touched, Jack sat on the table and let Jamie scramble for the right bandages. 

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Jack reassured, “I’m really okay.” 

“Okay!” Jamie cried, “ The cut is _huge!_ ”

Jack frowned and gently gripped Jamie’s wrists that were holding five different types of bandages, “Hey, Jamie. It’s okay. There’s a lot of blood and I don’t want you to get... frightened of it. I can take care of it.” 

“I’m not grossed out if that’s what you're worried about,” Jamie said matter of factly, “I’m worried about you. What happened?”

Jack gently pried the bandaids from his fingers and looked for the alcohol wipes. As he ripped open the package, he thought of what to say and ended up mumbling, “Ah, well. A lot of things happened. There’s a lot of bad things out there besides the Boogie Man.”

“Not! Not to scare you or anything, Jamie, because I will always, _always_ protect you,” Jack hurried to say and as he looked up he accidentally pressed too hard on the open wound and hissed in pain. God, everything hurt. The cut pulsed in pain, spreading waves of it up to Jack’s leg. His eyes seemed ready to roll into the back of his head the minute he closed them and the area between the base of his head and the beginning of his neck sent stabbing aches down his spine and to his forehead, giving him a massive migraine. 

“I know that,” Jamie took the alcohol wipe out of his hand with a glare and a small little pout, “So…” he dabbed the wipe on Jack’s ankle, “So you were protecting kids from other bad things? What kind of bad things are out there?”

Jack tore open another wipe to catch a droplet of falling blood and started cleaning up at a faster and harsher pace than Jamie was. The kid was so gentle, it was sweet, but he was barely picking up any of the blue stain, “Haha, no way, kiddo. It’s way better for kids not to know everything that goes bump in the night.”

“But I wanna be prepared!” Jamie protested.

“Trust me, Jamie,” said Jack, finding some ointment and a large bandaid to cover the largest part of the cut. He would have to go to the store and snag a real needle later, but he wasn’t about to sew himself together in front of a kid, “When kids know about all the bad things out there, they start worrying that they will see them. That fear alone can accidentally summon that bad thing to you.” 

They could sense that sort of thing. Whether it was from morbid curiosity or genuine fear, the creatures that lingered in children’s minds and fears were usually able to sense their existence in another being’s mind or mouth. Even Jack was beginning to be able to tell when someone said his name when someone considered him as a possibility. It was bizarre and slightly disorienting in a way that Jack wasn’t entirely sure if he was making it up or not. He’d have to ask the Guardians about it. 

Jamie picked up the wipes and tossed them in the trash, turning his back to Jack, “But… what if they come anyway?”

Hopping up from the kitchen table, Jack flipped in the air, upside down, and floated in front of Jamie, “Hey, hey, you wanna know a secret?” 

Jamie looked up, curious despite himself, and shrugged. Jack flew out the door anyway, using the wind to push Jamie to follow him. Kids were sometimes grumpy and unwilling to play if their feelings were hurt, but it was usually easy to get them back to their happy carefree state. That’s why he loved kids. They forgave you _way_ easier than feisty egg obsessed rabbits did. As the wind pushed Jamie out the door, the kid couldn’t help but laugh at her playfulness and yelp in surprise as she tossed him up in the air.

“Woah!” Jamie called, and Jack twirled around him, feeding the current and encouraging the wind to keep him afloat. The leaves that were still scattered on the ground were all brown with the age of winter, leaped into the air at his beckoning.

_Wee!_

_We’re flying!_

_Jamie Bennet the boy who flew! Hey! That has a nice ring to it! Somebody write that down!_

_It’s Jack! Jack’s back! Jack didn’t get eaten by the Ijiraq!_

Like a tornado of carefree energy and freedom, the leaves circled around Jamie and twirled him in place. The spiral of the tornado slowly shifted down until Jamie spun gently to the ground, giggling with his hair tousled and spiked up. Jack plopped down next to him and grinned over at Jamie to watch his sparkle of joy.

“So!” Jack mock-whispered, “Would it be too much of a surprise if I told you I can talk to the leaves?”

Wide-eyed, Jamie glanced at the leaves scattered all around and said a little breathlessly, “Tell them I’m sorry for stepping on them.”

That made Jack laugh as he picked up a crinkled, broken leaf and said, “I don’t think they feel pain. Not in the way you or I do, at least. If they did they would probably hate me for frosting ‘em and bringing winter, but they don’t. They are messengers and listeners, and they tell me if anyone is in danger.”

“So that’s how you know how to save people? The leaves tell you?” Jamie asked, “That’s so cool! How do they reach you when you fly around all the time? Can you still hear them when they are on the trees or if they are crumpled?”

Jack laughed, “Well, the leaves are always talking and they spread the word pretty fast. There’s a lot of leaves around the world and even in places like deserts and oceans, the wind helps carry them to me.”

“Wow,” Jamie swished his hands back and force between the leaves, brushing them towards him and tossing them. They didn’t seem to mind. One leaf even flickered up in the air rebelliously and planted itself in Jamie’s hair. 

“Yup!” Jack held a particularly intact leaf between his fingers, “So that means if you’re ever in trouble, you can tell the leaves, and I’ll know and come save you.”

He handed the leaf to Jami and the kid took it with wide eyes, “And you’ll come? Always?”

“Always,” Jack paused and then whispered, like it was a big secret, “I told the leaves to keep you and your friends extra special company, just in case.”

Jamie grinned like he had just been told yetis existed all over again and looked down to hide his pleased smile, “Awesome.”

“But only when you’re in trouble!” Jack said, “Don’t be like the boy who cried wolf, alright?”

He frowned, “But can I just talk to you through the leaves? Like if I have something important to say, and I’ll forget it before you visit me, and I just want you to know, or something?”

“Oh,” Jack tilted his head to the side, “I suppose you could. I wouldn’t be able to respond, though I would try my best to hear all the messages. Maybe I’ll write back on your window if I don’t have time for a full pit stop or snow day”

“Cool,” Jamie smiled in triumph, “Can I tell my friends? Monty wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Pausing, Jack thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t something that he necessarily wanted everyone to know. It was like a secret weapon Jack utilized to trick his enemies. They always thought he was as dumb as he sounded and as naive as he looked. Jack Frost, of all things, could hardly know the secrets of their plans. But the leaves did. You’d be surprised at how many heists went down in the forest, surrounded by leaves. The little guys complained about the number of villainous monologues they heard on the daily. On the other hand, if the word spread to children about Jack’s small allies then he could help a lot more kids in danger. He told Susan, Henry, and Cody about his little leaf secret so surely the Burgess kids would be responsible enough. 

“You can,” Jack decided, “But only tell kids, yeah? We wouldn’t want all the bad guys to know my secret right?”

“Right! Hey, maybe I can help and tell you if I see anything bad happening to people!” Jamie’s eyes glowed with the idea of keeping a secret and being in some sort of scheming plan.

Jack smiled and shrugged, “Why not? I could use a little helper.” He ruffled his hair, a display of affection Jack had learned from the wind, and stood, brushing off the clingy leaves and ignoring their dramatic whines of _nooooo!_ And _stay a bit longer!_ Chuckling he looked at Jamie, addressing both the leaves and his believer, “Make some trouble, kiddo, but not _too_ much trouble, alright?”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged and tried not to meet his crestfallen face. 

Jamie pouted slightly and looked down at the leaves, “Why? You’re hurt, aren’t you? You should stay here so you can get better.”

Jack shifted guiltily, “I have to- um, I wanted to visit a- uh, he was- you see-“

Jamie looked up at him, patient and understanding if not disappointed at Jack’s sudden departure. Jack took a deep breath and looked in the direction of his lake, “One of the reasons I didn’t visit you for awhile was because… because I lost someone who lived here. Someone who was my friend for a long time.”

A gentle tug on his hand had Jack looking down to see that Jamie was holding it comfortingly, “I’m sorry. I lost my nana too when I was seven, and I was really sad too.”

“Yeah,” Jack hummed, a lump in his throat, “I just had to take some time to be sad for a little bit before I was back to my old self.”

“My mom says that people change when they lose someone,” Jamie said, “But I think they’re just a bit sadder than they were. You’re still the same person, right? You’re still Jack Frost.”

Jack laughed. It wasn’t light and happy but he didn’t know what it was either, “Hah- yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I’m still me.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agreed, teasing him a bit for his repeated words and said, “Bye, Jack. See you soon?”

“Sooner than you think, kid,” Jack lifted off the ground with a slight bow and tipping of his imaginary hat. 

In the ghost of the breeze tickling the clouds, Jack felt a gaze on him, but when he asked the leaves about it, they detected no danger. It should be fine.

* * *

His hands were cupped around his mouth, choking back a sob of horror. _Why, why did he think this was a good idea?_

_At least his eyes and mouth were closed,_ was the only thought Jack could coherently think. Mushrooms bloomed and sprouted from his bark, tearing through his wood and seeping into the moisture it gained from the wet snow. His thick and study frame was deflated, sagging into the ground with all the weight of gravity on an empty shell. The Oak of Sorrows was still mostly in his original shape since it took trees decades to completely decompose, but he looked so different from when Jack last saw him alive, _Jack last saw him alive, he saw him breathe his last breath and say his last words._ Muffling a sob behind his hand, Jack sank into the snow and let it crumble around him, and stick to his knees, and seep into his skin. 

“Oak…”

But the large Oak of Sorrows did not respond. He was not an Oak of Sorrows any longer, but just an Oak. The empty shell of a being filled with only creatures that were using his body as housing, even in death. Even in death the tree was serving others and letting them use him. Even in death, Oak was still just a dumping ground, a decomposition sight. Why were their creatures that naturally benefited from death, who only lived in death's wake? Why were you forced to be selfless, to reject any self-centeredness, no matter how much you deserved it, in death? Oak accepted it, of course he would. Every wise tree Jack heard off was aware that their bodies were just shells and homes for other creatures. The flies and the birds, the squirrels and the mushrooms and moss. None of the bugs that were itching in the warmth of his bark could be seen by Jack, due to the cold weather and thick snow, but he knew if he lifted up a branch or a piece of bark that there would be thousands of critters squirming in him. 

Jack shuddered, violently, and spread a thick casing of frost over his surface, decorating his damp dark bark in intricate patterns. On his closed eyelids, Jack brushed his shaking hand over the gnarled bark, drawing curled vines and smooth lines of flower petals and ferns. Some spots of his wood were covered in green moss and Jack stared at it, tempted to kill the plants with his cold. Anger still festered in the glow of his staff and his trembling arms, despite how irrational the thoughts were. Of course, Jack knew what happened when living things died. They decomposed and decomposition didn’t just happen alone. It took colonies of insects and plants and bacteria. It was nasty and disturbing, but Jack didn’t really have a problem thinking about his own body decomposing or dying until now. 

Now Jack knew what it felt like to die. Death always felt like a familiar touch that he couldn’t recall. With his fragmented memories, Jack couldn’t just remember dying- he could feel it. He could feel the water pooling in his lungs and the dark spots blocking out the vision of the reflective, glowing ice barrier. The Man in the Moon saved him before Jack’s body felt the lasting effects of death, but Jack wondered how it would have happened if the Man in the Moon didn’t. Would the cold preserve him, or would the bacteria eat at his flesh and peel his pruned skin off his bones? Would they find his body come summertime or would Jack drift endlessly in that small pond, sinking into the thick mud that would coat him like the dirt of a coffin? 

His hand trembled on the smoothness of mossed bark and Jack pulled away, not touching the plant that grew there. He looked at Oak’s mouth and the ingrains that shaped his face and the snow that tucked itself in its crevices. Now frost touched and layered with pretty protection, Jack huffed out a breath that he intended to be a short sigh, but sounded like the panting of an injured animal. Irrationally afraid of the bugs and the moss, Jack stepped a few feet away from the Oak that was no longer filled with his friend’s soul and laid down in the snow. It wasn’t the same, but it was almost familiar. If he closed his eyes he could pretend Jack was merely resting at the edge of Oak’s roots- not his fallen trunk. The snow wasn’t a blanket of softness, not like a real blanket, not like the fluffy ones he saw in the stores but never indulged himself to steal. It was wet and cold, like him and the dampness of his eyes, and he sank into it until he could feel the hardness of the forest floor. Willing it to snow, Jack squeezed his eyes shut and found some small comfort in the flakes of snow that landed on his cheeks and eyelashes. His foot still throbbed, but the ice soothed his pounding head and aching chest. It was easy to fall asleep, to let the leaves land on his shoulders, to cradle his staff in knuckle tight hug, to let the snow cover him in a thick, wet, blanket and soak him to the bone, to blink his heavy eyes and see the dark bark of his old friend fill his vision. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Ahua/Kahua- Aster’s and Hani’s Doa and Eamon’s Doe  
> Eamon/Amon- Aster’s and Hani’s Buca and Ahua’s Buck  
> Hani/Khani- Aster’s brother and twin light
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience 
> 
> Tiliter- a snake-like animal on their planet. Dangerous but only aggressive when threatened.
> 
> Anguish- A former Pooka who shape shifted into a Tiliter and grew seven more tails. Has the ability to shapeshift into any animal and has the tendency to shift into the form of their prey’s Buca, tricking them so they can eat the kits. Pure evil and possess no kind of light or consciousness. (Completely made up)
> 
> Ijiraq folklore- So apparently these things are also children kidnappers, an old myth told about some lady who had kids with a dog? What I read was all over the place so I just took a few facts(?) like the side-ways lizard eyes, caribou skull and antlers as their true form, and their tendency to kidnap children and humans because they are fascinated with them. 
> 
> This is one of my favorite chapters- not cuz I condone shapeshifitng monsters or anything but I’m kinda proud of my writing and it was really fun to write and that’s what this is all about, right?
> 
> Also, to hell with pronouns. Doe’s and Buck’s, eh same difference, he or she or whatever.


	8. We’re Still Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to learn how to protect my family,” Aster said and Ahua’s heart sank. She had hoped, oh how she had hoped that burden would never fall to her children, but seeing her kit’s dull and frightened eyes flare back to life once again- how could she say no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language is in this one. I think that Jack would have cursed out the moon in the film if it wasn’t PG.

**999 CYCL BMiM**

**E. Aster Bunnymund age: 1 CYCL. Fourth Day of Childhood Phase**

“Their Childhood Phase,” Ahua whispered to Eamon when they thought Aster and Hani were asleep and curled protectively over their kits as if they feared the Anguish would slither into their burrow and take their joy from them, “it's ruined.”

Eamon shook his head, “It’s not ruined,” his breath shuttered, “you know the Anguish find every kit.”

Hani opened his eyes and stared into Aster’s- unawares to their parents. The silent fear Aster saw in Hani’s eyes was much more terrifying than Aster’s own wailing and weeping fear. The fear of apprehension, of knowing about the fall but not knowing the moment it will strike. 

“We can’t do anything to stop that, but we can protect them. Aster is alive,” he sniffled, “It's much more than I can say for my- for most kits.” 

Ahua reached across the nest and stroked Eamon’s cheek, “We will protect them. We did protect them. You came just in time.”

In time, Aster thought, maybe if he ran through time the Anguish wouldn’t have gotten him. 

* * *

“What’s this?” Aster asked, quiet compared to the volume of his previous questions. Hani hadn’t left his side since yesterday, and in the morning, they felt no urge to go back out to the meadow. 

This morning, Ahua crouched next to Aster and gazed at what he was holding. It was a knife of reflected colors. Sharp enough to cut through an Anguish’s head and clean enough to display not an ounce of evidence that it had ever done so. It was curved instead of straight and the handle was wrapped with leather that surely came from the Busach tails. 

“That is my weapon,” Ahua said, “It is a knife I earned when I fought in the war.”

There was a war going on. Aster didn’t know much about it or really what a war even was, but it made Doa sad and it gave her a knife that shed blood. 

“Why?”

Ahua blinked, “Why did I earn it?”

Aster nodded but Hani was silent by his side, an observer who soaked up just as much information as Aster, if not more. 

“Well,” She smiled, “I earned it by protecting the Pooka I love. Your Buca. My family. My parents and siblings.”

The knife was in Ahua’s hands, away from his grasp, but Aster stared at it, contemplative and quiet. It was always odd to see Aster quiet. He was a loud kit of overflowing amounts of energy and questions that tumbled from his mouth like a current. But when he was quiet- that was when Ahua saw her kit’s character the most. His intelligent eyes, his curiosity and drive for the things that caught his attention. 

“I want to learn how to protect my family,” Aster said and Ahua’s heart sank. She had hoped, oh how she had hoped that burden would never fall to her children, but seeing her kit’s dull and frightened eyes flare back to life once again- how could she say no?

Eamon was watching her, his green eyes bearing into her back as Ahua grinned and sheathed her knife in her satchel, “Well! The first thing you need to know about protection is that involves lots, and lots, and lots of tickling.”

“What!” Hani exclaimed, the first one to react to Ahua’s sudden lurch in their direction as she caught Aster’s side with her fingers and began to wiggle them with no mercy. 

His laughter was loud and bright, just as his questions, just as his determination and Ahua leaned forward, carefully avoiding his kicking legs, and blew a raspberry into his stomach. 

“Doa!” Aster exclaimed between giggles, “I was- I was _serious_!” 

“Serious?” She repeated and caught Hani’s ankle with her third arm. He screamed in excited delight as she gently dragged him closer to her fourth arm and tickled his caught foot, “There’s nothing serious around here.”

“Yes, there is-“ the word evolved into a loud shout-half-laugh accompanied by Aster writhing, trying to escape her fingers that played on his tiny ribs like an instrument. She was gentle, of course, knowing that even a tight grip could bruise the growing kits. Careful to remember Aster’s near suffocation, Ahua let him go when Aster’s struggling nearly turned panicked. He skipped away victorious, with breathless laughter, and turned to Hani. 

Ahua accused, “You left your poor brother in my clutches? Now I must tickle him with _four_ arms!” 

“That’s!” Hani could barely speak between his squealing laughter, “Cheating!”

Aster’s eyes brightened in realization, “I’ll save you Hani! I’ll protect you!”

With a battle cry, Aster charged forwards and leaped onto Ahua’s neck, “Arghhh!” Down she went with the weight of one Pooka not even as heavy as a vase as he batted her head and shoulders with all the might his small paws could produce. It did not hurt, but Eamon’s call of “Gentle!” was appreciated.

Aster’s ears perked up as he called, “Buca! Come help us defeat Doa!”

“Defeat Doa?” Eamon sounded appalled, but he walked forwards anyway, “How are we supposed to do that?”

Suddenly aware of just how much knowledge Eamon had of how to ‘defeat her’, Ahua looked up at him, “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?” Eamon had the audacity to _smirk_ at her and gestured for Hani to come closer. As Aster held her down, Eamon whispered in Hani’s ears obviously something that was going to be Ahua’s downfall if the excited light in Hani’s green eyes was anything to go by. 

With synchronized timing, Eamon declared, “Attack!” And each member of her family aided in exposing her only ticklish spot and ambushing. Aster held open her arm with the weight of his entire body as Eamon used one of his hands to pin down her wrist and the other to aggressively tickle her armpits. After retracting two of her arms (to lessen the number of armpits to be tickled) Ahua only had two to be pinned down, and unfortunately, that meant Eamon and Hani had easy access to tickle her. If she weren’t so outraged by the betrayal, she’d be embarrassed by the loud bark of laughter that escaped her will. And her squirming. A soldier of the Intervallum army did not _squeal_ or _squirm_. And yet, here she was, at the mercy of her Buck and kits who seemed set on tickling her until she died of lack of breath or humiliation. 

“Alright, alright, let her breathe, you two,” Eamon finally eased up, his smirk more pleased and joyous than ever. As if her suffering brought him joy. The bastard, “Your laugh is beautiful.”

She panted on the ground, “Oh, just you wait until I get ahold of your feet, Eamon.”

“Are you sure you’re in any condition to be making threats? You-“

Cutting him off, Ahua lurched up suddenly and tackled Eamon to the ground, “-are not winded for very long apparently!” 

Ahua smirked, “I’m a soldier, Eamon. I may not be able to run through time- but I have endurance.” 

He swallowed, “Right.”

Ahua glanced behind her, “Are you two going to help me tickle your Buca or what?”

“Yeah!” Their eyes glowed in that same light Doa owed her very life to protect, and she smiled, genuine, the first time this phase. They grabbed ahold of his legs, careful to get out of kicking range, and let Ahua, four arms and all, tickle the base of his feet. Eamon crowed, between that bubbly laughter of his, “Traitors!” 

“Well...” A voice said, laced with disappointment, “Good to know you all are...fine.” 

With the speed only a time traveler could go, Eamon stood and straightened his shirt that had ridden up. The kits hanging in his arms and shoulders clung to him even as Eamon tried to gently brush them off. Ahua froze at the voice and the smile on her face lost the joy that was previously trapped there. Hani seemed to notice this first and let go of his Buca’s arm to stand behind his parents; Aster, ever observant, followed in suit.

“Kheamha,” Ahua stood and brushed the dirt off of her pants, “What are you doing here?” 

As Ahua stood next to her Buck and intertwined her fingers in his, Eamon easily followed the gesture, but not without casting an uncertain glance at Kheamha. Feeling the small paws grip on the backs of her legs gave her some small resolve.

“Kheamha,” The Pooka murmured, “What happened to being called Buca, Kahua?” 

Ahua stiffened at the name and tried to appear as nonchalant as possible, “What are you doing here?” 

She scowled at Ahua’s tone and entered the burrow further, “Am I not invited to my own kit’s burrow? So hostile already when you are the one at fault?”

Ahua balked, “ _I’m_ the one at fault when you-“

Kheamha scoffed, “Who else? I could make a list of all of your failures, shall I read it to you?” 

Silently, ahua fumed and clung tighter to Eamon’s comforting hand that was running circles on her fingers with his thumb. 

“Did you happen to forget that you deserted and abandoned your duties at the front line to frolic-“ 

“I did not desert, I resigned-“ Ahua spoke louder the anger seeping into her voice and causing her to clench her vibrating teeth. Already? The first thing her Buca speaks to her of is her duty? The very thing that Ahua had spent her entire life running from. 

“-with a Pooka you have no business being with. Leaving me a breadcrumb trail to follow to find you, then then only time I hear of you-“ 

“No ‘ _business being with’_? Eamon is my mate!” He had been, for three thousand cycles. Three thousand cycles of hurt and separation, of waking up not knowing whether she would live another day to see him. 

“-is the colony speaking of the Anguish that you banished and that nearly ate my grandkit, of whom I’ve never met-“

Asters claws could be felt through the fabric of her pants and her thick fur as Ahua growled, “You’ve been following me? Tracking me down with village gossip?”

“ -and _then_ you refuse to call me Buca! I’ve earned that right. I’ve earned that title.” 

“You have done no such thing,” Ahua murmured with a deadly calm. 

Ahua stopped referring to her Kheamha with her parental title around the time she stopped acting like her Buca- a millennia ago. It was a recurring topic they raged and spit about. Ahua grit her teeth and tried to repress the growl that threatened to build in her throat. 

For a tense moment, no one was sure what would happen next. Ahua was trembling, though from what specific emotion, she didn’t know, all she could feel was heat bubbling in her eyes and behind her ears. It was only the presence of Eamon’s hand in hers and her kits’ small but weighted paws on her legs that forced Ahua to take a deep breath. This was the Pooka that Ahua had dealt with her entire life and exploding resulted in nothing but scorched hands and tongues.

Ahua breathed, “I don’t know what you want me to do about all of my ‘failures’ because the only thing I would _consider_ fixing would be to call you Buca.” If compromise would make her leave, Ahua would swallow her pride. 

“People are dying, Kahua,” Kheamha’s golden eyes flashed with grief and scorching anger, “Dying, while you’re here collecting seeds like some sort of Cotantail.” 

Ahua snapped, “My _kit_ almost died yesterday, Buca! I will not abandon my family for whatever righteous cause-“

“Well it wouldn't be the first time would it?” 

“You don’t get to say that,” Ahua hissed, “You don’t get to say that to me when the first half of my life I don’t even _remember_ you-“

Eamon stepped forward, between them and the large distance they put between each other. As a result, he let go of Ahau’s hand and she tried not to feel the stinging absence of it, “Enough of this. Enough.” 

Kheamha’s white furred face sat in a scowl as she sneered and the thick ruff around her snout seemed to enunciate the downward twist of her lips, “You don’t dictate how my kit and I speak, Cotantail. Need I remind you that there is a war raging right above our heads while you-“

“Need _I_ remind you,” Eamon cut her off, “That I have fought in this war longer than you have been alive.”

Kheamha’s rage was stifled by her respect for Pooka older than her, as most Pooka had engrained into them since birth. Ahua’s Buca had no respect for Eamon, specifically, but she could respect his age and position in the council.

“Now,” Eamon said as he rested a hand on Ahua’s shoulder and turned to Kheamha, “Why don’t you join us for lunch, Kheamha?” 

Ahua silently cursed Eamon’s composure and ability to hold the upper hand over Kheamha. For cycles Ahua had tried to receive one small ounce of respect from her parent and Eamon could do it with one small reminder. It didn’t matter, she reminded herself and swallowed down the bitterness that was ever-present for Kheamha and tried to grow off that stem and touch Eamon. Ahua wouldn’t let her influence how she felt about Eamon; Kheamha’s opinion of her had long since become irrelevant. 

“How kind of you,” Kheamha sneered with a sarcastic smile and the sharp edge of her grin softened when she turned to Aster and Hani, “Well, I suppose I would like to spend some time with my grandkits.” 

However tempting it was to block her Buca from crossing the distance to her kits, Ahua allowed Kheamha to march up to Aster and only a small degree of protectiveness that was welling up inside her spilled out into her scowl. 

Eamon, with his hand on her shoulder leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “Don’t growl, Ahua.”

“I’m not growling,” She cut off the noise that came from her grinding teeth. She was silent as she watched her kit and her Buca interact with each other, until she muttered to Eamon, “I can’t believe you invited her to lunch.” 

Eamon chuckled and nuzzled her shoulder with his chin before he started towards the kitchen to make lunch- without gracing her with an answer, of course. Her family drama was something Eamon approached with a safe distance from but appropriate amounts of empathy for. Instead of following him, Ahua stayed to keep an eye on Kheamha and her children. She caught the tail end of the conversation as Kheamha spoke, “- battle scars from it, hm?” 

Aster reached up for his throat before he stopped himself and pulled his hands back down to his sides, “No. My Doa protected me.” 

“Oh, your Doa protected you, did she?” Kheamha glanced up at Ahua, “Well, maybe she should teach you how to defend yourself then. She was a great warrior before this. Maybe you can follow in her footsteps.” 

Cold. The ice cold of the front. The color of white that coated Kheamha’s fur and the specks of gray that danced in her own. The white ice that melted on her warm body and turned her blood solid. The damp chill that seeped into her and seemed to permanently stick in her dry fur. It seeped into her now and drenched her very soul. Aster was staring at her, eyes wide and pinned on her chest where Ahua was clutching now, as if she could feel the dampness still of where she washed off the Anguish’s blood from her fur. 

Aster swallowed and looked back at Kheamha, “I want to protect my family too.” 

Swallowing, Ahua blinked away the phantom cold and let go of the fur she was gripping.

Kheamha smiled, it was genuine and hopeful and it hurt to see, “Good for you, Aster.” 

She clapped Hani on his shoulder, rough enough that Ahua glowered and took a threatening step forward, “And what of you, Khani? You share my kit’s name, yes? So, high expectations then.” 

Hani’s ears dropped to fall at the base of his neck but he straightened when Aster gave him an encouraging smile, “Yes, my name means happiness.” 

Ahua smiled at the subtle pride and responsibility that Hani’s voice carried. The kit may not be as loud and overbearingly curious and bright, but Hani carried the same light within him. When even Aster's smile failed him, Hani was there to bring it back and resurface their buried happiness. 

“Happiness?” Kheamha’s laugh sounded more of a scoff, “Well, I suppose that’s more fitting than a purple flower.” 

Both the kits and their Doa flinched are her casual dismissal and Ahua’s glower deepened as she stood and headed towards the kitchen where she, no doubt, was headed to criticize Eamon and his Arivum culture. 

  
  


* * *

**Winter 2012, December**

**Jack Frost**

  
  


Jack’s toes curled around the bars wrapped around the top of the car. Around the country roads and through the trees the car shot by with almost a speed as a fast sled. With a whoop, he leaped off the top of the car and hooked his staff on the tail hitch. His feet slammed into the ground and ice shards exploded up from the momentum. The ice coated over bumps of asphalt as Jack’s bare feet slid over them. A dog in the back seat of the car peeked it’s head out, spotted Jack, and immediately started barking. 

“Hey buddy,” Jack laughed, “Mind if I hitch a ride?” 

It was unclear if the dog wanted to tear his throat out or jump on him and lick his face. You never could tell with dogs. Animals were able to see him but Jack learned a long time ago that having a pet to keep him company was a receptive for heartbreak. Fearing the same heartbreak, Jack wondered if having believers would help at all. One day Jamie might stop believing in him. One day Jamie might die. Any human that Jack attached himself to, able to see him or _not_ , would eventually give up the ghost. It still hurt every single time. Nothing had felt as bad as losing Oaky, but Jack thought that losing Jamie might hurt just as much. 

So, he ignored the puppy barking and focused on the feeling of his feet sliding across ice at high speeds and the thrill of going around a sharp corner. As the car began to slow down, Jack launched into the air to keep up the momentum— never stop long enough for it to catch up to you— and whooped at the exceleration. The wind was crisp and cold even in the southern states, and Jack grinned at the icy chill he brought to the barren trees. The leaves stirred up at his appearance but thankfully had nothing pressing or dangerous to tell him. Seeing the miniature figures of people down below, Jack grinned and skipped on the tall trees like descending steps until he landed admits the fallen pine needles. Within the winter atmosphere there was a burst of green color around him: evergreen Christmas trees, planted in neat rows, ranging from shortest to tallest. Families chatted happily, kids pointing and darting over to the first tree that caught their eye. 

Christmas spirit was upon them, and Jack accepted it wholeheartedly. Thanksgiving was always a holiday that Jack preferred to skip: family and an abundance of food were two things Jack didn’t have a lot of in the first place. But Christmas was for everyone! The single college kids who were kicked out of their parents house, the small family of three, the widowed grandmother who traveled through the iced highways to reach her grandchildren hours away. It was family centered, but there was enough individuality and excitement to be one of Jack’s favorite holidays. There were negative aspects and Jack had seen them all, but he preferred to stick to places that didn’t have drama and people screaming about gift prices in grocery stores. 

Christmas tree farms were perfect places for Jack to linger. It helped now that he knew he preferred rural farms land and small town business, seeing that his own family survived the same way. This farm was operated by a small southern family in a rural area, but it saw enough attention to have their grass parking lot filled. The mother and father greeted their customers, directing this way and that and handing them yardsticks to measure their trees and a flimsy saw to cut it down with. Their kids, tall and strong and used to this time of year, would help chop down the trees and carry them to what Jack fondly called the ‘Christmas Tree Harlem Shake Machine’. He darted over to a happy family, touching down on the ground to wave hello at a small girl. She did a double take, and Jack winked at her. 

After Halloween, Jack was beginning to lose count of his sudden believers. It was around _twenty_ now, could you believe it? It was enough to make Jack flip upside down and kick his legs in the air with excitement. Of course there was the lingering anxiety of loss that dimmed that excitement, but so far, Jack had done a good job at keeping those thoughts on a tight lid and ignoring them. The little girl smiled and pointed but Jack darted away, giving into his mysterious streak that insisted on making everything a game now that he had any sort of attention. How fun would it be to play hide and seek in a Christmas Tree farm? Just as he started plotting on how to rope any and all kids into a massive hide and seek game, a voice piped up.

“Excuse me,” An elderly woman croaked, “Excuse me, young man.”

Wondering if the old woman had lost her grandson, Jack turned and cast a look around for any ‘young man’ that might be related to her. He glanced at her briefly to search her features for any familiar faces when he found her soft gray eyes looking directly at him.

“Oh,”Jack blinked and chanced a look behind him.

The strangest thing- Jack actually saw no one behind him. Oh, he knew how this sort of thing went, they would wave- they might even call out ‘Jack!’ But for the split second that Jack thought that maybe they were referring to him- he would turn and see the actual person they were referring to. It was humiliating even if no one could see his embarrassment. 

Jack stepped to the side, out of the woman’s way, and hummed, scanning the area for who she might have been referring to. One of the Christmas Farm helpers, maybe? 

“ _Excuse me!_ ” The lady huffed with attitude, “It’s like they don’t teach kids manners these days.”

Jack swiveled his head around, curious despite the insistent voice telling him that there was no possible way she was talking to him, and found her unimpressed look staring right at him. Hope, the shitty thing it was, perked up and Jack found himself lifting a finger to point at himself in a halfway gesture. Really, Jack wanted to sit Bunny down and have a long talk about this whole ‘hope’ thing that Jack despised so much. 

She scoffed, “Don’t give me that look. I know you can see me. You are your tricks.”

“Me?” Jack’s voice absolutely did not crack and he would take that to his grave. 

“Who else would I be talking to?” She chortled good naturedly.

“Uh-”Jack could think of a hundred and one other people who she could be talking to and Jack was not one of them. 

“You’re one of the helpers aren’t you?” She asked, “You look like a strong young man that could help me chop down this tree.”

“I, uh-”Jack startled when she turned to walk away and beckoned Jack to follow her. A big part of him wanted to stay firmly planted on the spot where he was and rationalize his way out of believing some random woman was seeing him, believing in him. But another part of him threw cation out the window said ‘Screw it’ as he swallowed and started after her, “Sure. You could say I’m a ‘helper’ I guess. Close enough.”

The old woman hummed, “That’s good enough for me. I need a tree for my service center. I volunteer there you know, and they said they couldn’t trust anyone else to pick out the perfect Christmas tree. It’s been my little job for a while now you see, even though I’m retired, I still stop by to volunteer on special occasions like this. No one can pick out quite the right tree like I can! Or decorate it for that matter.”

Glowing in pride, the woman’ eyes centered on a large Christmas Tree as she pulled her sweater closer around herself to block the wind that was a little bit too excited on Jack’s behalf. 

“Oh, sorry, ma’am,”Jack said, sheepish and stepped away from her a few inches, “It tends to be alittle cold around me.”

“Aren’t you polite?” She waved him off with a slight scolding tone, “I wouldn’t have asked for Jack Frost’s help if I didn’t know it would be a little chilly.” 

“For Ja-?“ He stuttered and jogged a little bit to eye her face to face, “You know who I am?”

The old woman planted the ruler down and it stuck into the ground like a flag designating her claim, “Here we are! Isn’t she perfect?”

“Wait-“

“What are you waiting for?” Her smile was wrinkled and kind, if a little teasing and mischievous, “I’m an old woman now. Not fit for chopping down strong trees like this one.”

Jack huffed out a disbelieving, half crazed laugh and the old woman raised a single eyebrow. “Well,” He stared up at the towering tree, “Merry Christmas” and took the flimsy saw from her hands. For all the time he had visited Christmas Tree Farms, he had never chopped down a tree for himself. If he wanted one, he could drift up the mountains, and find a natural one, and decorate it with all the tinsel and lights he could find. Stealing from a small business though, Jack tried to steer away from. If he needed it, he needed it, but a Christmas Tree was never a ‘must’. 

He slipped the wobbly blade under the twelve feet tall tree and wondered why this lady thought Jack would be able to single handedly chop down this massive tree. Don’t get him wrong- Jack _could_ but appearance-wise he was a pretty scrawny-looking guy. He always hated his appearance, boyish and awkward. Big ears and thin lips and wide eyes. He was stuck in between that awkward adult-but-still-a-child-phase that so many human’s complained about. Couldn’t he have died when he was twenty or something? _Well_ , Jack chuckled internally, _I probably would have with how the harvest was going._ And then he stopped. His mechanical motion of the saw slipped off the bark with his internal slip up and Jack hurried to fix it. Harvest? They were farmers, yes, Jack figured that much out, but were they starving? 

Images flashed through his mind as if to answer his question, and Jack froze. 

A sad flickering flame as their only source of warmth. A ripped and patched quilt thrown over Jack and his sister as they held each other's toes to circulate warmth back into them. A plate of small portions that Jack stared at and stared at, trying to memorize the sight of food before it disappeared. A clear voice of “ _Oh, Jack, I don’t need it. You have it,_ ” and Jack’s stubborn response of handing his parent’s plate to his sister, mimicking their selflessness. He was never a big kid, none of them were. His stomach shrank as he grew instead of filled out and it seemed all of the excess fat was stretched into his tall and scrawny form. The hunger came back to him now, gnawing and aching and hurting, and always there. Jack Frost was always hungry, but Jackson Overland was _starving_. 

“Everything alright down there?” The old woman called, bringing him back to the present and Jack responded by pushing the saw back into its jerky motions. He breathed heavily as he sawed at the bark, cutting through it without so much as breaking a sweat or feeling the ache in his muscles. Because Jack Frost wasn’t human anymore. He _wasn’t_ starving. Going months without food, Jack could still cut down a twelve foot tall tree and fight hundreds of spirits without sleeping. If he were still human, Jack would have keeled over, double dead.

“Hah-“ Jack huffed, “Double dead.”

_Jack_ , Twiner reproached softly, but he said nothing else. Twiner never really said anything when Jack was thinking about his past. Even before his memories, Twiner would grow silent when Jack would start questioning the Moon. Since he knew that Twiner was there even in his time as a human, Jack was starting to think that Twiner knew a lot more than he was letting on. 

_You know something, don’t you Twiner?_ Jack asked softly, not breaking his momentum of sawing through the tree. It was coming to a close and with a friendly shove, the stubborn tips of the clinging stump started to crack and tip the large tree over. He stood and caught it before it thumped to the ground, but he got a face full of sappy pine needles for it. Watching everyone else carry the trees, he knew it was awkward and slightly uncomfortable with the scratching branches and sticky sap. 

Twiner didn’t say anything, but he felt guilt as heavy as a gallon of syrup wash through his mind. 

“Here we are!” Jack said, hefting the middle of the trunk onto his shoulder and gripping some branches for balance. 

Patting his shoulder once or twice, the woman smiled, “Thank you, dear,” and headed for the Christmas Tree Harlem Shake Machine. 

His gums pulled up into an eye crinkling smile as he said, “No problem. Happy to help.” 

As they approached the small cabin on the top of the hill, Jack swiveled the tree around to hide his face. It was better to be safe than sorry, and he didn’t want some wacko accusing this nice lady of witchcraft. He handed it to the few men that were in charge of evening the cut stumps with a chainsaw, shaking the pine needles off of the tree and packaging it in a net before he started to hover above the ground. 

“Oh wait, Jack-“ The only woman called and Jack numbly turned towards her, wondering if he once had a grandmother who said his name like she did. The memories didn’t come slamming back into like he wanted. Instead the thought just lingered, like the rest of his questions, and dissolved into the large chunk of bittersweet that was already there. 

Jack smiled wide with his teeth, “Yeah?”

“A thanks,” The old woman’s lips hardly moved but the dimples on her leathered skin and the crows feet around her eyes smiled for her, “for your help.”

She pulled out a small plastic bag of chocolate drizzled popcorn and pretzels, peppermint chocolates and miniature candy canes all stuffed inside and tied up with a white and red bow. His fingers nudged the bow and small slip of paper that read off the service center she worked for and their donating cause. 

“Thank you,” Jack said, holding the bag like a glass ornament that might break if he held it too hard. Maybe the popcorn kernels would break into pieces or the perfect drizzles chocolate would smudge. For safekeeping, Jack slipped it into his pocket,knowing he would savor every item and probably save it for christmas. No one had ever given him anything like this before. No one had really given him anything, “How can you see me?” 

The old woman sighed and gave him a look that begot long years of hope and disappointment, “Oh, well, I’ve always believed in Jack Frost.”

“What?”

“I just haven’t been able to see you until now,” She patted his shoulder, “but I’m glad you finally came to give me a visit.” 

“Of course. I’ll… I’ll visit you again. Next year,” Jack said, apologetic for something he didn’t know had happened, something he didn’t know _how_ to feel about.

Humming, she looked up at the faint speckles of snow that fell in the southern atmosphere and finally gave him a real smile as a small dust of snow touched her nose and sparkled into her eyes, “I’d like that.”

Her name was Debbie and she decorated that Christmas tree better than Jack had ever seen. 

* * *

  
  
  


“WHAT THE FUCK, MOON!”Jack launched a snowball, or maybe it was a chunk of ice, at the glowing crescent of a moon. It was hiding from him, he could tell. The fucker, “She believed in me the whole time!”

“Agh!” He hollered, an aggravated and deep sound that carved out of his chest and carried the weight of three hundred years of loneliness and frustration through the thin air and exclaimed, “How many others believed in me? Huh?”

The moon hardly shed any light on the dark world, and Jack made it no better with the blizzard swarming around him and blurring everything in sight. His crystal blue eyes probably shone brighter that it did, burning with anger and _hurt_ , “Why couldn’t they see me you stupid lifeless hunk of gray rock!” 

“You- you-“ The snow never had a chance to hit the ground as he poured as heavily as rain but wilder than any storm in the last decade that he created. The element he created was angry at everything, even himself, and the snow threw itself onto him and bit at his cheeks. Jack found a small amount of power in that. If he couldn’t control the last three hundred years of his life, maybe he could make a goddamn blizzard instead, “ _Why?_ ”

“Why didn’t she-? Hey could they-?” Jack was pleading with a rock. A rock that didn’t answer. A rock that wasn’t even bright anymore.

“ _Why couldn’t they see me?!_ ” Jack roared, voice as loud as the wind and the sea that ricocheted on the slabs of ice and sent violent sprays of salt up to him. The wind was wilder here, with the devastatingly cold atmosphere and the free current of the ocean. The world was angry up here and beautiful in the way that it was the opposite of calm and still. It wasn’t the near silence hiss of snowflakes touching the ground. It was the scream of winter itself. 

Making a blizzard was easy, even easier here where the blizzard was already born and a thousand years old, but it was stronger than it ever had been in that thousand of years. With this type of blizzard, he didn’t even need his staff to channel his power, so he tossed Twiner into the clearing. Angry at the staff that didn’t speak when he needed him to, at the wind and storm that did nothing but make him colder, at himself, at the fucking moon. Jack funneled his energy, his rage, his sadness into his core, and he let it explode. In most blizzards, he let it bleed and trickle out of him, building layer upon layer, crescendos and decrescendos. But this blizzard was no symphony. It was raw and it ripped out of his skin and froze his tears into solid ice shards before they could hit the ground. It was pure power and it was everything that hurt ripped out of him and tossed out in the open. He had been here minutes, at most, but all of the energy zapped out of him. The blizzard took it all and Jack Frost sank to his knees. 

“How many people?” He asked but the blizzard swallowed his voice, “How many years could I have-?”

“Why couldn’t they see me?” The snow piled around him, it wrapped him up layer by layer until only his face was showing. But it was good, wasn’t it? The cold, the raw, the emptiness. It was finally gone, fizzling out of him and into the weak precipitation in the clouds. If he could feel the sting of cold, his lips would have been numb and turning blue as they murmured, “Why couldn’t they see me?” 

  
  
  


* * *

**999 CYCL BMiM**

**E. Aster Bunnymund age: 1 CYCL. Fourth Day of Childhood Phase**

**(Same Time)**

  
  


The kits were going to nest, burrowing in their blankets and cuddling each other when Ahua heard Hani’s quiet observation of, “She looks funny.”

Ahua blinked and laughed out loud. She really did have fantastic kits. 

Aster giggled too, and sat up to add to Hani’s observation, “Yeah, she had six arms. Like you sometimes do, but she never shifted them away.”

“And fangs!” Hani added the important detail. 

It wasn’t odd for a Nixava Pooka to have those characteristics. In fact, Ahua used to carry those traits. During the Anguish’s ambush, Doa’s base form shifted out as she roared and sharp canines and double arms shifted into existence. Her dark brown fur was her natural color, but it was more common for the snow Pooka, as Kheamha was, to have gray or white thick coats. Living in the mountains and the harsh winter of the north, the Nixava clan that Ahua originally came from, required stronger suited bodies to the environment. 

Ahua relayed this information, sparing the details of Ahua’s outcast past simply because her fur was the wrong color in the wrong place, and smiled when Hani expressed his desire to have sharp teeth. 

“Why?” Aster asked.

“It looks cool,” Hani said and his brother apparently didn’t like that answer. 

“Anguish had sharp teeth,” Aster mumbled and rolled over in the nest to face away from both of them.

“Hey,” Ahua pulled his shoulder back to get him to face her, “The Nixava Pooka are good. They do not eat kits and they do not have animal eyes. Kheamha is a little scary, but she would never hurt you, alright?”

The encounter was closed when Aster nodded, but made no verbal response, and Hani looked at her with worried eyes. Not worried about the Anguish or Kheamha- but worried for Aster. Ahua frowned at the ending of the night and tried not to let the misery that bubbled up to her eyes leak out. She knew it was normal for kits to encounter Anguish- less normal for them to survive their encounter- but she didn’t want this for him. For them. Even she and her siblings had faced the Anguish— more like fled from it. Every kit knew the legend well, and it helped Ahua some that she was already afraid of her Buca. When she detected the threatening stance of Buca in the distance, Ahua was the first to turn tail and flee from its sight. But Aster wasn’t Ahau, and he didn’t have a Buca like like Kheamha. 

It was when Ahua left the nest with her kit’s asleep that Kheamha mentioned her true purpose of coming to visit. Lunch was uncomfortable and Ahua had a splitting headache from the constant pressure of gritting her teeth together at every cutting remark Kheamha made- but it was barable. At the very sight of Kheamha’s sharp eyes landing on her and Eamon no where to be found, Ahua knew lunch was truly only the appetizer. Now, she must try let face her alone. 

“Where is-“

“I just don’t understand,” Kheamha interrupted, voice not gentle but not as harsh to cut through Ahua’s fragile resolve. 

Ahua sighed, “Understand what, Buca?”

At the parent title, Kheamha paused to breathe and calm herself enough to speak without ire, “Why would you want to bring kits into this world? I’ve always known of your desire to start a family, but why now? When the entire universe is in constant combat and there are more Anguish than ever preying on kits and Meticus-“

“Don’t,” Ahua’s voice ripped through her comment, “Don’t speak his name. Are you insane?”

“Not as insane to bring kits into a world where he exist!” Kheamha shot back, “What? You think not saying his name will stop him from invading here? It’s only a matter of time before the Pirate King steals even Pookan kits’ dreams and hopes. He’s getting closer and no matter what I do I-“

Her nostrils flared as she rapidly blinked back the emotion in her eyes and the table creaked underneath her weight, “I have to send back swords without their owners every day.”

Kheamha breathed heavily and stared at Ahua as if she were at fault for every death in the Intervallum Army, every Pookan kit. Her hands twitched in anger where they were curled in fists, and Ahua wondered if Kheamha was going to hit her. 

But then she sagged with the weight of double Eamon’s life time and hung her head, “We need you Ahua.”

“Send someone else,” How many times had she said that phrase? How many times had it been ignored? 

“You know I can’t do that,” Kheamha said, “You know why I choose you to join the ranks for our family. You weren’t the strongest, or the biggest, but you were the most determined. You know that.” 

“Who’s to say you won’t send back my sword to my family?” Ahua whispered, not meeting her Buca’s eyes.

“At least you would be protecting your family,” Kheamha urged and reached forwards to grip Ahua’s hands. A form of encouragement, she was sure it was intended as, but Ahua felt nothing but bile creep up in her at the touch, “Your kits. Their dreams, Ahua, your kits are so bright. They may not be warriors, but they don’t have to be. Not if you fight that war for them.” 

Ahua said, “How can I do anything, Kh- Buca? I am one Pooka. I could barely save my own kit from an Anguish.” 

Kheamha shook her head, “Not just you, Kahua. Not even just Pooka. Others are joining. Kozmotis Pitchner is starting to win battles. We now stand a chance, but we need more-“

“You wanted to know why I resigned, Buca?” Ahua looked up, finding her only parents’ eyes and capturing them with what Aster liked to call her ‘serious eyes’, “It’s that ‘determination’ you spoke of earlier. Because you know that I put in my full effort with anything and I will not stop until I give it my all.”

“Yes!” Kheamha exasperated, “Which is why we need soldiers like you to join!” 

“Which is why I resigned,” Ahua said, “Eamon and I both knew that if I continued to fight- I would fight until I died on the battlefield. This is my only chance to have a family and I will not leave them to fight because if I do- I know I will never come back to them.” 

“Kahua-“

She was frozen under Kheamha’s iron gaze and her smooth white fingertips that gripped like ice but her voice was not silenced, “Let me have these precious moments with them, Buca. Let me love my family before I go back to my duty. Please. That’s all I want. Just a little more time. ” 

For an eternity, for less than a second, Kheamha sat there and all of the pride and admiration that Kheamha might have had for Ahua drained out of her. Replaced with cool and bitter disappointment. 

“Fine then,” Kheamha’s fang shaped lips curled into a snarl, “Be a coward. Stay with your cotantail of a Buck and your flower petal kits instead of fighting for them.” 

Do not cry. Do not flinch. Ahua closed her eyes and breathed. Nothing you haven’t heard before. She knew that fighting to protect the planet, the universe, her family, was Kheamha’s way of proving her love to her family, not Ahua’s. But that was the thing with words like that- the ones that always felt as if a palm had struck your cheek and snapped your head to the side. Ahua swallowed once and turned to face her Buca. 

“You know,” Ahua opened her eyes. They were crystal with unshed tears, but her voice did not wobble or shake as she said, “that ‘cotantail’ is two billion cycles older than me, and he treats me with more respect than you ever will.” 

Ahua was young compared to her partner, but they both had been late in choosing their mates. Ahua liked to think it was because they were waiting for the right moment to meet. When Ahua was willing to do anything to resent Kheamha, including courting a respectable cotantail Pooka that barely left his study, and Eamon was starting to slip into an existential crisis (they happen every few thousand cycles or so). When time seems to stretch endlessly in front of you, even significant things become as meaningless as another spec in the horizon. Ahua, as fiery as the engines that pulled the Intervallum Star Ship, brought him back into existence as the atmosphere brought meteors to the flame. Eamon’s many cycles seemed daunting at first, until she realized that growth took as long as it wanted and had no time limit. While Ahua was beginning to grow into herself, Eamon was still learning too, despite the notion that everyone assumed Eamon should be as responsible and mature as the first Pookas. 

Pushing the chair she sat in away from the table as she stood, Ahua continued, “And my ‘flower petal kits’ are full of more hope and dreams than any dream pirate could ever get their hands on.”

“And they will not steal it from them,” Ahua tucked the chair back under the table as Kheamha stayed still, “Because, I will not allow it.” 

…

* * *

“What’s a cotantail, Hani?” 

“I think,” He whispered back though the thick darkness and silence of their nest, “It’s what we are.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Because we collect cotan and the tails the Busach shed,” Hani said, “That’s what Buca told me.”

“Why is that bad?” 

“I don’t know, Aster.”

“Maybe it’s because we run in the meadow,” Aster murmured, “Instead of fighting in the war like Ahua’s Buca.” 

“I don’t want to fight in the war.” 

“Yeah,” Aster lied, “me neither.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Ahua/Kahua- Aster’s and Hani’s Doa and Eamon’s Doe  
> Eamon/Amon- Aster’s and Hani’s Buca and Ahua’s Buck  
> Hani/Khani- Aster’s brother and twin light  
> Kheamha- Ahua’s Buca. Aster and Hani’s grandbuca. She/her pronouns. 
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience
> 
> Also wanted to be clear that in Pookan cullture they are aloud to take a ‘leave’ or a ‘break’ from their positions if they begin to raise kits. Both parents do cuz there’s no shitty patriarchy. So Ahua didn’t up and leave the war, it’s a thing she’s aloud to do. Oh, and remember the how ‘fuck pronouns’? Yeah well this holds true. Kheamha is a Buck with she/her pronouns. 
> 
> I am forever at odds on whether to make Jack super vulerable and emotional, Or light, funny, and cool, so I’m trying to do both. I don’t like the Jackrabbit fics where Jack is the small and vulerable one because I think Jack is a real spit fire (or ice) with a really soft heart and unstable emotions and an unreleteless mschivevous fun and witty personality. So hopefully I don’t dissapoint you guys with how I write him. Right now I’m trying to adress his grief and not just gloss over the fact that Jack has been dealing with some shit for the last couple hundred years and how it’s all dog piling on him now. But I promise it will get better beacuse I am nothing if not a sucker for character development. 
> 
> This is one of my favorite scenes to write in Aster’s past. I hope you guys know how much I love Ahua and Eamon. Tell me what you guys think of them, love em, hate em, don’t care? 
> 
> Do you have a favorite oc character I’ve made up?


	9. This Push and Pull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aster is adorable and Jack thinks so too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my teachers that are begging me to say anything on the zoom call. The other day one of the ppl in my class were like ‘no nevermind’ and my teacher clutched her desk and said, ‘NO PLEASE TELL ME NO ONE TALKS TO ME ALL DAY”
> 
> And I felt that honestly
> 
> So drop a comment even if it is to tell me that my end notes are way too fucking long. One day. One day someone will say that to me. Because it’s true and I don’t know how to stop talking and I probably won’t stop.

**999 CYCL BMiM**

**E. Aster Bunnymund age: 1 CYCL. Fifth Day of Childhood Phase**

  
  


It was the last day of childhood phase. 

The Sun day. 

Green spread from the window seal above his nest as happy plants, and a soft and small body curled against his side, breathing steadily and nuzzling into his side. Hani said something in his sleep, and Aster stirred to make sure he was more comfortable. It was before anyone else woke up, and Aster could tell because the sky was a brilliant shade of indigo. Light spread from the bottom of the window and brushed the dark blue backdrop that Aster knew meant morning. The bright blue and the slight pink and purple that seemed like it was resting on the ground itself meant that the new day had arrived. Normally, he tried to race through time in the morning before anyone else was up, but Aster didn’t know how to run through time yet, and if the Anguish tried to catch him again, he wanted to be ready for it. He wasn’t afraid! Of course not. He was just being cautious. That’s the big word that Buca told him. “Only the clever are cautious” Buca had said, so Aster was going to invent another sneaky method to learn the art of running through time. 

He waited until he heard the creak of his Buca’s footsteps, and the soft sound of plates clinking together, until he could not contain his excitement. Aster wiggled his toes and shifted his arms against the soft furs of his nest. Even if he was warm and the bed and Hani were soft, Aster felt restlessness tug at the contentment and urge him upwards. There were already so many options today. It was the _last_ day of his childhood, and Aster couldn’t wait to see what he had planned. 

“Asterrrrrr,” Hani whined and burrowed his face into Aster’s shoulder. 

He giggled quietly, “It’s time to wake up, Hani. There’s so much to do!”

Hani’s green eyes blinked once, adjusting the light that had already seeped into the room, and he met Aster’s eager gaze. He paused for one moment watching Aster with an unreadable expression as Aster himself fought to contain his excitement. 

“Okay,” Hani said, tired but surprisingly agreeable after his initial whine, “Let’s do everything on your list.”

Aster grinned, all teeth, “I haven’t even _made_ the list yet, but just you wait, Hani. We’re going to have the best day ever!” 

Better than the last, and the day before that. He planned on making this day so great that they would forget all of the things that made them sad. Hani caught wind of his enthusiasm, as it took him a little while to comprehend so close to sleep, but now he was wide awake and just as excited as Aster was.

“You’re right,” Hani sat up and Aster was finally free to fling himself on his feet and bounce a few times, “It _is_ going to be the best. We’re going to do everything on your list.”

“Not just on my list, Hani,” Aster said and his ears were tall and proud on his head, “We’re going to do _everything.”_

With a surprised blink, his brother popped up like an excited flower blooming, and raced after Aster. Through the dirt carved doorways, his paws skittered across the packed dirt at their feet and left little claw divots in their wake. 

“What did I say about racing in the burrow?” Doa called, throwing on her sash before she could reach the little balls of fur at her feet. 

Hani froze, caught in his tracks and glanced at Aster for an answer, (he was just as clueless) and then back up at Doa.

Doa said with a wicked, fang-toothed smile, “Always make sure you know who’s in the race before you start.” 

With that, Aster jumped to his feet again and left a confused Hani to figure out Doa was referring to herself. She leaped towards Aster, bouncing off the table she used as leverage, and cackling as she did it. With a surprised look of joy, Hani leapt into the new scurry around the burrow. Doa was more experienced in racing, but the little kits were fast little things, and Aster had been practicing. Hani was just a hair slower than Aster, and still Doa had a hard time catching up to them. That, or she was just pretending. It was hard to tell. 

“When did you two get so fast?” Doa managed to reach Aster this time and give his tail a small tug. Aster yiped in surprise when Hani got ahold of his tail the second after, tag teaming up on him. 

“What I want to know,” Another voice called from the kitchen, “is who gave you three permission to run in the burrow?” 

Doa snarked, “Who gave _me_ permission? In my _own_ burrow?” 

Unaffected by her remark, Eamon finished chopping the pink carrots and said, “If running in the burrow is allowed, what’s next? Skipping breakfast? Going without clothes?” 

“Yes!!” Aster jumped up and down, raised his arms, and looked at Doa expectantly as if he thought she would aid in lifting Asters shirt over his head. 

Hani held out one hand to Aster and one towards Buca- the very gesture of mediating- and said, “Wait, wait, no, Buca. You don’t understand.” 

Raising his eyebrows, Buca said, “Oh?”

Buca was using sarcasm, obviously- a word that neither Aster or Hani knew as ‘sarcasm’ but more as ‘teasing’- but Hani was quite serious. 

“Yup,” Hani hopped closer to the kitchen and put his hands on his side proudly, “We’re going to do _everything_ today.”

Doa smiled and scooped him up in her arms, “Are you now?”

“Yes,” He turned his bright eyes towards his brother who was struggling to get himself up into his chair, “Aster made a list.”

Buca chuckled, “Ah, so that means all rules go then? Free for all?” 

Aster yelled, “Exactly!”

His back foot was almost hooked on the wood of the chair. He looked at Doa’s and Hani’s expectant looks and his foot slipped again. Aster made a quiet noise of disgruntledness before he managed to situate himself on the smaller chair. It was lower to the ground than his parents, but he was thankful for that fact. It was hard getting on big chairs for a little Pooka. 

He tapped his paws on the table, “Yup. Hani and I are going to do it all today. Since it’s our last childhood day.”

Doa was smiling up until the point where Aster mentioned what day it was. As soon as her smile fell, Aster felt his ears drop immediately, “What is it, Doa?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” She reassured, “It’s nothing bad, I promise. The fifth day already?” 

“Yup!”

Doa looked at Buca, “Your Buca must be messing with the time or something, it’s going so fast! Soon you’ll be going to school, and learning your purpose, and meeting your mates-“

Aster made a face while Hani perked up in excitement, “We get to do all of that _tomorrow_?”

Aster’s face twisted in distress, “But I don’t want a mate yet!”

A low chuckle across the table lifted his attention to Buca and dispelled some of the anxiety that had built up in his chest, “Don’t worry, Aster. Tomorrow you’ll only be going to school for the first time. Where you get to learn how to read and write, and paint, and… train. It will be a long time before you do any of the big stuff.”

Hani’s ears drooped, “How long?”

“You don’t need a Buck or a Doe for a long time, little hops,” Doa reassured, “You’re stuck with us for a little bit longer. Besides, you don’t want to be stuck with a mate- _especially_ if they’re anything like your Buca!”

She scrunched her nose teasingly towards Buca at the indignant, “Hey!” that came from him.

Hani giggled at her face and said, “But I want to be a Buca. I want to have a family!”

“And you will,” Doa reassured, “You and Aster will do great things and you will meet great Pooka. Pooka who you will love for a very long time.” 

Buca was looking at Doa as she spoke, and Doa’s teasing grin softened into something tender at the look. Aster saw this, and his face soured slightly, “Can I do great things first? Before I have to be a Buca or Doa? Why can’t you just be my Buca and Doa forever?”

Eamon ruffled the top of his head and his ears were tousled at the touch, “You don’t have to be a parent until you want to be. And I know you’ll do great things. Both of you.”

Hani smiled, but his last question wasn’t answered. Aster’s ears flicked forward attentively, “What about-“

“So what was that about skipping breakfast? I don’t know about you two, but I’m hungry after that race,” Doa said, unintentionally drowning Aster’s words.

“As hungry as a Busach!” Hani said as his utensils were handed to him. 

His questions were always numberless, and the young kit was easily distracted, so the unanswered question slipped out of his mind, especially since his brother was saying something full of enthusiasm and excitement. Aster imitated the swinging motion of the Busach’s long tail with his hands and the sound of their tails slicing through blades of grass, “Swish, swish, swish!” 

They both giggled and started to chant the word again, finding simple joy in mimicking each other and changing their tone slightly with every exclamation. It was a little game. Simple, repetitive, slightly annoying, but Aster found he liked games, and he liked creating them. By far, his favorite game was the hiding game. 

The dirt path from their burrow was long and tedious, but Aster didn’t mind so much when Buca was there to swing him in the air as they walked, and hold the baskets when Doa decided they had enough walking and wanted to run with them. 

“Hold these!” Doa said and shoved the baskets filled to the brim with fluff from the cotan seeds and other produce to a disgruntled Buca. Before he could even protest, Doa was chasing after Hani and Aster who shouted in delight at seeing her bounding towards them. When they finally reached the market, Aster saw the world upside down as Doa caught him and carried him, upside down, through the gates. There were green fences made of the long and thick substance of the cotan stems and mounds of multiple burrows decorated across the field. For the Busachs’ their fence was made of imported wood- something they were not fond of chewing. There were a few trees scattered throughout the tall grasslands, but the largest tree Aster had seen was the height of his Buca and almost as skinny. Sometimes Buca complained about the lack of trees, but Doa argued that the wild flowers were better. Purple aster flowers dotted through the field along with bright yellow suntwin flowers. Every color decorated the green grass and sprouted on top of the dirt and rock mounds of the colony's burrows. It was more colorful here than in their own field and burrow because of the abundance of water. Aside from the pond Aster was pushed into, there ran a river through the village and a bridge carved from scavenged rocks the Pooka had uncovered from under the ground. Buca said the bridge was older than even him and made by some of the first Arivum Pooka. The river, Buca had told him, was much, much older, and much more dangerous. Everytime he caught Aster looking at the bridge, he would tell him another piece of information about it and emphasize just how dangerous it was yet again. The bridge was well preserved but it was safer to stay away from the raging river that ran so fast it provided energy for the colony. It wasn’t as fast as Buca, but the river was almost just as cool. Keeping his Buca’s warnings in mind, Aster couldn’t help but find something mysteriously tempting about the raging water and long vines that clung to the stone bridge’s surface.

Today, he couldn’t wait to find more treasures and hide them. He even had a plan of _making_ new treasures. They could swim down to the bottom of the pond, or wade through the river to find the gems twinkling through the water. They could dart between the feet of the Pooka in the market and find the berries they dropped on the ground, or the flowers that grew between the burrows like little pathways. They could climb the small, scarce trees that held prickly plants on them and mark secrets on leaves. Aster didn’t know how to write much, but he could write his name, that was a big secret, right? Nobody else knew how special his name really was, not even Hani. 

“That’s a lot of things to do, Aster,” Eamon said casually as they approached the part of the meadow that served as a trading place. He peered at Aster with a tilt of his head to see his upside down face as Aster rambled about the contents of their upcoming afternoon, “Everything might be too much, don’t you think?”

Aster frowned, “But nothing is not enough.”

He smiled, eyes twinkling through the debate with his son, “Maybe you’ll have to do _something_ then. Just not everything.”

“But why can’t I do everything?”

Buca blinked, “Well-“

Hani twitched his feet in a display of excited energy as he looked at Aster, waiting for his plans to commence. It seemed he didn’t care whether they did something or everything. He just wanted to do it. As Doa was setting up their booth to sell their produce and sewed items, she was watching with amusement as her Buck struggled to come up with an argument against a kit that tested his knowledge but didn’t crush his hopes. 

“I think I can do everything,” Aster said, before Buca could come up with a reason not to.

He asked, “Why do you think you can? I mean, what makes you so sure?” 

Looking at his Buca, Aster said easily, “Because I can,” like it was the most normal thing in the world, “If I can’t- well I’ll just have to make sure that I fix that.”

“Well,” The older Pooka said, “then I guess you can.”

Aster grinned, as if he found one of the most precious treasures hiding and hopped after Hani, not a care in the world other than the amazing everythings he was going to do, even if his silly Buca doubted at first. 

He hid his treasures in the bushes and under roots, playing the hiding game he invented. The other kits around his age had spotted them and gasped in delight, and even an adult Pooka curiously picked up a shiny stone that had wound up in his produce basket. Suddenly growing shy with the attention, Aster never revealed it was him. Hani did that for him, shouting in unbridled excitement when someone picked up their gifts. He would explain the game Aster created and watch as the kit's face lit up as they realized they were part of a harmless scheme too. The new attendants of the game would hide the treasure somewhere and watch the happiness of another kit discovering something new and bound over to explain the rules to them and so on. Aster never tired of finding new treasures to hide for the first time. A crowd of kits had all but dragged Aster out of hiding so he could find treasures for them to hide and find, claiming that they wanted to find new treasures to add to the game. 

It was silly, he thought, that they couldn’t find new treasures themselves, not even Hani! Maybe it was because they didn’t think it was treasure. When Aster picked up a plain stone they frowned at him and Hani said, “That’s no treasure. That’s just a rock!”

Aster shook his head, a secret smile on his face, “No, it is. Look at it’s face.”

They looked closer, some gasping in realization, some frowning in befuddlement, when they saw the wrinkles of stone that looked like an old Pooka smiling. Aster proudly hid that one, tucking it away in the hardest finding spot because it was so valuable. 

Together Hani and Aster bounded around the meadow and the market, finding all manner of sparkly, dull, and ordinary objects that Aster found as the most beautiful. He picked up a stick, gnarled and thin, so brittle that it might as well be kindling for a fire, and whispered to Hani, “It looks like a Dream Pirate, doesn’t it?”

Hani turned his head this way and that, trying to find the picture his brother so easily saw, “Hmmm.”

“Watch,” Aster said and turned towards the stick with more purpose, carving out the white wood with the small but sharp claw on his fore finger. He sat down on his hunches, curled protectively over the ugly piece of wood he was sure would become a masterpiece. It took a few minutes, but Hani was so curiously leaning in and trying to see over the ears that Aster dropped in front of his project. When he whittled out a rough sketch of the ugly Dream Pirate, Aster displayed his carving to Hani. It’s twig of an arm was attached to a crooked sword, and Aster carved the soulless face of the pirate onto the round gnarled part of the wood that acted as its head. He wondered if Dream Pirates had animal eyes or any light in their center.

Gasping, his little brother traced a soft finger over the gnarled wood, following the lines of the pirates scowl to the pointed tip of his sword, “It _is_ a Dream Pirate. Just like the one Kheamha talked about!”

Aster perked up, “She talked about Dream Pirates?”

“Did you fall asleep?” Hani frowned, they agreed to eavesdrop together after they had gone to nest- that way they received double the information. 

He scrunched up his shoulder in a sheepish manner, “I was tired.”

“Well,” A hesitant look flashed over Hani’s face before he leaned closer to focus on the Dream Pirate carving, “She talked about how dangerous they were and… how ugly! Just like this one!”

“And how they hide under burrows?” Aster whispered and his eyes darted over to the bridge at the edge of their village, “and under bridges?”

Hani eagerly added, “And how they steal dreams! Or guard treasure!”

Aster gasped then, gripped with a brilliant idea. It was one of those ideas, two separate thoughts that merged together perfectly, almost on accident that you had to assume it was some stroke of luck, “Hani!”

He turned, startled at the sudden shift from their rambunctious story building. Aster’s grin was bright, “We should see what the Dream Pirate is guarding, right?”

“Where?” He frowned at the Dream Pirate carving that didn’t seem so small in his hand anymore. 

“The bridge!” Aster pointed, across the little pond with waist deep water, through the curving dirt path of the market and the lines of burrows encased in mounds of dirt, “If we go under the bridge we will find a thousand treasures there!”

He echoed, “A thousand? That’s a lot.”

“I know,” Aster said proudly, knowing the number was a long time because Buca told him so, and the number, since it was so old, must hold a lot of things with it, right? 

They raced towards the river, laughing and ignoring the shouts of the kits who asked where they were going. Aster liked to play with the other kits, but they didn’t understand like Hani did. Hani didn’t see the Dream Pirate in the stick, but he believed Aster and stuck around long enough for him to prove it. He built off of it too, spinning a story, an idea out of something Aster created first. So they shot off together, only getting distracted when the colorful bugs leapt out of the grass like a puff of powder they stepped on. A little Itchea pixie fluttered from the tall grass, disgruntled at being disturbed as it’s horizontal ears on it’s head rotated so fast they propelled them upwards and carried their tiny bodies into the sky. Aster giggled at the perturbed Itchea that they so rudely surprised and hopped out of the way to watch them buzz around to a new space. Hani stopped, fascinated with their small propellers and the tiny emotion they carried in their black shiny eyes and small face.

Finally they made it to the bridge, stone and green vines curling around it in a casual display of beauty and vegetation that encompassed the two Pooka’s world. Aster gripped Hani's shoulder, slightly hiding behind him, “Look! It’s being guarded, Aster!”

“How can you tell?” He asked seriously- a diplomat on a mission. 

Aster turned to him with shock written on his face, “You can’t tell? The stone! It’s just disguised as stone. They want you to think they’re harmless, just like the wood carving!”

Aster stared at the stone that curved over the bridge in two columns, vines wrapping around the body of the column like dresses or long tunics. The vines fell down the side of the river in big clumps, as if it’s arms were dangling over the river ready to ensnare anyone who dared cross. As he glared, he watched the vines shift and twitch and let out a playful scream.

“A Dream Pirate!” He screamed and pushed against Hani, “Quick! We have to hide under the bridge! We have to get the treasure before they catch us!”

Hani let off a bubbling shout of glee and tore down the side of the bank where the water was rushing fast and strong. Aster looked back and the wind shifted the vines once more. The leaves rattled in terror. He screamed again, for good measure, and dove for the rocks, “ We have to take shelter! The big vines are actually their arms and they’ll swoop you up!”

Hani gripped the Dream Pirate stick carving tightly in his paw and wrapped one paw around his head as if he were ducking from the swing of the vines, “They’ll swoop you? What are we going to do? We have to fight them off and get the treasure all at the same time.” 

“You have to fight it off, Hani!” Aster said, “ While I get the treasure, you have to stop the monster from eating me!”

“ _Eating_ you?” Hani wailed, eyes wide as the wind rustled the vines more ferociously as if to empathize the desperation, but he was excited at the prospect, Aster could tell. 

Aster sighed, like a hero with a heavy burden, “Okay. I’ll do it instead. But you have to be the best at _everything_ to find the hidden treasure.”

Hani gulped, “At everything?”

“Yes,” He said seriously, “But I believe in you!”

“You do?”

Aster grinned, “Of course! You’re the Great Khani! The best magic Pooka ever! You can see everything! Even if it’s invisible. Don’t you know the stories?”

“What stories?” His eyes were bright as he asked. 

Aster sighed, as if he were embarrassed that Hani _didn’t_ know the magnificent stories Aster was just about to make up, “Well, first of all, they say he has the strongest magic in the whole clan.”

The light in his chest flared up excitedly at that, “ What kind of magic?”

“Only the best kind, of course,” Aster said, “The growing kind. They say he can grow a tree as tall as...as the suns! It reaches all the way to the first sun and has the greenest leaves you’ve ever seen. All the magical creatures live in the tree Hani grew.” 

Hani gasped, “Even a Sgidha?”

“ _Even_ a Sgidha,” Aster swore and grinned brighter as the story built up, “And he collects all sorts of magical treasures and protects them! Instead of stealing like the Dream Pirates, he keeps them in the tallest tree and special Itchea fairies guard it for him.”

“Where did he-“ Hani paused, laughing a little bit, “I mean, me. Where did I get the treasures?”

Aster picked up a stick from the ground as he spoke, “By the enchanted river of course. It was guarded by ferocious Dream Pirates and thieves! They hide their magical stolen stuff in the river and then attack anyone who tries to cross the bridge to get them.”

“How do I get the treasures then?” Hani looked at the swaying vines hanging from the bridge without fear, but a bit of weariness, as if he were starting to understand the gravity of the situation more. 

“Not alone!” Aster encouraged, “Obviously you have your trusty sidekick and protector- Me!”

“Oh,” Hani said, adopting a little bit of Doa’s attitude but his voice and smirk were too shaky to be considered ‘Doa’s attitude’, “then I should be fine.”

“Exactly!” Ignoring or simply oblivious to Hani’s attempt of sarcasm, Aster trained his eyes on the target. 

A particularly strong breeze gushed past them and the green vines smacked against each other in the wind. At the movement, Hani ducked behind the bush and said, “There’s a lot of Dream Pirates out there. We have to be careful.”

That was practically a yes in Aster’s book, so he leaped over the bush, stick in hand, with a battle cry, “Come on, Hani! You collect the treasure while I fight them off!”

“What about a plan?”

Aster called over his shoulder, “I have a plan!”

Hani stood watching the fight and expecting Aster to tell him the plan until Aster turned and gave him a little signal to ‘go ahead’ with his paw before he punched the vine, “Take that!”

“Go Aster!” Hani cheered with a laugh, “I’ll go find the hidden treasure!”

The sound of water sloshing signaled that Hani stepped into the water. Out of the corner of his eye, Aster saw something shiny, perhaps a stone, that he wanted to pick up, but then Hani would be left defenseless. It was his job to protect Hani from the Dream Pirate while he searched for the new treasure, but it couldn't hurt to grab the stone and then pop back up. It wasn’t like they were in actual danger. The vines were blowing in the slightly more aggressive wind, and the most they could do was smack him lightly on the head. Aster didn’t know why Hani was so scared of the vines, but maybe it was because he hyped them up so much. It was an adventure, that was for sure! Just like the stories Doa told them in the nest. The lessons and warnings of creatures who choose the wrong and the tales of heroes that could do everything if they just believed in it enough.

“Hey, Aster, I got-“ Hani shouted just as Aster closed his paw around the yellow stone on the ground. 

He straightened and turned around just in time to see Hani slip on a slick rock and tumble into the water. A vine had knocked him off balance while Aster had been distracted picking up the stone. At first, a laugh bubbled up in him. Just a few days ago Hani pushed Aster into the water, so it was funny that he got his clothes wet this time. And then, Hani slipped again instead of coming back out of the water, and the water was much deeper where he slipped, and his head ducked under the dark water longer than Aster’s ever was.

“Hani!” Aster shouted.

He scrambled down the bank, following the form of his brother that was grasping to find some rock shallow enough to touch, “Wait!” Aster called to him but he knew that the water was pulling him all on its own. 

Fear clutched at Aster's chest, not the same terror that paralyzed him and suffocated his throat- but a different form of fear that hurt in his chest and pushed something hot and wet out of his eyes and thumped in his heart like a hard shove twenty times over repeatedly and propelled his feet to fly faster than they ever did on the dirt path, “Hani!!”

“Aster!” His brother screamed back, his voice shrill and high pitched and _scared._ The water swallowed him up like the cunning Anguish swallowed up his own kit, and it cut off Hani’s scream halfway. 

For a moment he wanted to crumple to the ground, and cry, and beg for his parents to take him back to the burrow, but the river was taking something that was his, and it was _challenging him._ Pride or a feeling similar to it, stitched itself together into a few words in the back of his mind _This time,_ he thought, _This time I’ll do it!_ He would run so fast, he would run right through time and beat the river that spit Hani out just to pull him back under again. If he ran as fast as Buca- Aster’s eyes welled up and his breathing was shrill and panicky in his own ears- Buca would be able to catch Hani. He was fast enough, and Aster would be too, because Buca wasn’t here, and it was just him and Hani and the river dragging Hani further away from him-

Aster was a kit and he knew nothing about the laws of nature, only that this river had taken his everything away so quickly, and it thought that it could run away with him. The river bubbled it’s retort, and Aster’s paws clawed angrily at the grass. The vines were never the danger, the river was. It was fast and unforgiving and cold, just like an Anguish.

He pushed his little legs faster and propelled himself forward until he was ear to ear with where Hani was struggling to keep his head above the water. He was so close, so close, but Aster didn’t know what to do now. He didn’t know how to swim, he didn’t know how to stop long enough to find a stick or a rope to pull him out. Tears pooled in his eyes, making his rocky vision even blurrier. Hani’s paw swiped out of the water, in a desperate plea and Aster cried, “Hani!” As if the shout would somehow bring his twin light to safety. 

The light was so hard to see in the water, but Aster could feel it, and he could feel the light draining itself out as the seconds got longer, as the waves kept pushing him under. The cold dark water surrounding the lantern on all sides, pressing in, snuffing out the light as Aster was watching it and feeling it happen. Somehow Aster could feel the light dimming as if it were happening in his own chest. While he was safe on land he could feel the desperation closing in like cold waves of pressure and water- just as the Anguishs’ tails had suffocated his throat. He could feel the fear and the thought of, _I’m not_ _going to be okay,_ bubble up in him as if he were Hani himself.

The light was getting so hard to see that Aster nearly collapsed from the feeling of it almost gone when something hard and fast whipped past him. Everything slowed, as if Aster were running through sand and his muscles refused to keep going. Just as sudden as the feeling appeared it vanished, leaving Aster tripping over his own feet and stumbling to a stop just in time to see Buca leap through thin air as if he came from an invisible portal. For a moment, Aster thought it was himself who was bending time and space around him to slow down even the wind and gravity, but it was just the side effect of standing so close to someone who was actually morphing through time. 

Two bodies warm and strong and powerful shot around him, their feet leaving skirts of dirt in the ground from their force. They dove in the water- flashes of brown fur crashing into the waves and scooping up the flailing kit as if it was that easy to do so all along. 

They lifted the shaking, sobbing kit out of the water. Buca’s teeth clamped over Hani’s scruff, and he padded towards the surface in powerful strokes. Doa was helping him push himself forwards, and she leaped up the bank to take Hani first so Eamon could step out. Immediately, Doa held Hani close to her chest, shaking herself as the water dripped off her fur. Buca was panting and Aster thought that maybe he could see his heart thumping right out of his chest. 

The three of them hugged each other, tight and warm as they shook with the same fear. Aster crumpled to the ground in exhaustion and stared and stared at the lights around them. They weren’t as bright as they were before but they were _there_ , relieved and alive. 

“Easter,” Buca said, his voice a croak, “What were you doing playing near the river?” 

If Asters ears weren’t dropped already, they would have dropped right off his skull, “I thought- we were-“

“No, I thought I told you to stay away for the river,” Buca was shaking and his voice was soft but his words were not, “It’s dangerous. The river is dangerous and no place for two kits. It’s not a play area. The meadow is a play area. The pond is safe. The river is not. It almost _killed_ your brother.” 

He flinched and curled in on himself, “I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t even know what ‘killed’ meant. Death had no sharp or form in his mind, but it had a color— dimming light and red red red. Like the Anguish, and it’s severed head, and it’s lifeless black eyes staring at Aster accusingly. Hani was almost-? Unbidden, the image of the river cutting like a knife through his twin’s throat, the red on his fur, the red that would sink into the river like Aster’s paints leaked into the water when he washed his brushes. 

There he learned that Easter Bunnymund _couldn’t_ do everything. He couldn’t race the river. He couldn’t fight off the Dream Pirate. He couldn’t save his brother. The light in his chest glowed still, but it did not dance. 

* * *

Later, when Hani stopped shaking, when he stopped clinging to Doa, when Eamon sighed heavily and picked up Aster, the small, frightened kit and huddled him close to his chest, there was still something wrong with his light. It hurt, knowing that something he believed in (himself) was wrong. It hurt to feel that thought rise up with excitement and happiness and to feel it deflate out of you. Even if Buca forgave him and Doa cradled them both in her strong arms until they napped softly in the sound of her voice, Aster was still...sad. 

It was a strange feeling, being sad. And it felt a bit…. _hopeless_. Aster didn’t like the feeling. It reminded him of the feeling he felt when he clung to the only light he could detect as the Anguish blocked it out with its hard darkness.

When they were lying in their nest for a much needed nap, Aster on his side, facing the wide circle window and watching the two suns inch ever closer to each other to see if that would lessen the small little ache there, he felt three taps on his shoulder. He turned and Hani was there, eyes wide open as they stared at each other. They didn’t say sorry, or place any blame, they didn’t say that they were glad they were alive, they didn’t say they loved each other. They just looked, and Aster thought that was just fine. He thought those things and he was sure Hani thought them back. 

Instead, Hani reached forwards and placed a warm stone into Aster’s hand. It was green. It shone in the reflection of the window and Aster gasped. 

“Is this..?”

Hani nodded, “ The hidden treasure.” 

He said it quietly, but there was a hint of pride in his voice. His brother captured the treasure from the Dream Pirate, the real monster, the river. 

“You really are the Great Khani.”

Hani looked up a tentative joy in his eyes, “And you're my fearless protector.”

It was then that Aster decided that if he couldn’t do everything- he was going to learn how to. One day- one day Aster would do everything, and he would never feel like this again. More importantly, _Hani_ would never feel hopeless again. 

  
  


* * *

His fur was still wet. At the Marking Ceremony it was cold, and the lights in the sky were dimmer than they normally were. So he shivered and tried to look away from any kit or Pooka that gave him curious, concerned, judging looks. The kit that almost drowned. There were damp places on the small ceremony robe he wore to testify to that fact. 

Aster murmured to him, his warm and dry paw in Hani’s damp one, “Look at the sky, Hani.”

“But Buca said not to because the light will hurt our eyes,” Hani whispered back. Today was the Sun Day, the last day of the childhood phase, and it was marked by the day that the two suns became one. It didn’t really make sense to him how one sun disappeared, but Buca told them that the First Sun blocked the Second Sun every phase. They had seen it every five days for a cycle now, so Hani didn’t know why _this_ day was special, but Aster liked Sun day the most and Hani got to wear a warm robe, so it wasn’t that bad. 

Aster shrugged, closed his eyes, and tilted his head towards the single sun, “I look at the lights all the time.”

It was things like that, funny things Aster would say, that made Hani just nod his head and agree. ‘The lights’ were one thing Aster talked about periodically, always casually, that Hani didn’t understand. But Aster loved the lights he spoke of so much that he wore this contented, joyful look on his face whenever he talked about them. Sometimes Hani could catch it- when Aster saw the lights. Usually when Aster was upset or confused he would get this miniscule twitch in his brow before his eyes flicked shut and his tensed expression would disappear. Sometimes when Hani was confused or upset, he would just look at Aster as Aster looked at the light, and he would feel better too. 

It was one little thing Hani noticed about himself. The fact that he noticed things at all. He knew that Aster closed his eyes to see light. Hani wondered if the light was really there and maybe if you had to ‘not see’ to be able to see it. He knew that Buca had a habit of standing on his toes, a little up and down shift of his feet. Heel, toe, heel, toe. Maybe it was because he wanted to stand taller than he was. He knew that Doa hated the knife that she showed Aster- the one that Aster loved. Hani could tell from the way Doa would unclip the buckle of the sheath that held her knife and lift up the knife ever so slightly out of its case- just to shove it back down and clip it shut with more force than she started with. But he also knew it because of the conversation he heard last night. Of the swords that Kheamha had to send back home without their owners. 

_“Who’s to say you won’t send back my sword to my family?”_

Kheamha wanted to take Doa away from them. She bit and snarled and begged Doa to leave, and Hani nestled in their nest with his heart thudding in his chest as he wondered, _What if Doa says yes?_

Somehow, Doa said no, even though all of the mean words and the convincing would have made Hani cave in just for the sake of agreement. Hani was scared of the river, but he was more scared that Doa wouldn’t be there to save him next time the river swallowed him up. Because she was going to leave. He knew it. He knew it as Doa asked Kheamha for just ‘a little more time’. Just a little!! Hani would have asked for a lot more time. So silently, he asked for a lot for time and thought that maybe if he kept it to himself, then Aster would continue thinking that they had _all_ the time in the world with Doa and keep it that way. 

“You ready, you two?” Doa asked, her voice was soft and happy. She chuckled at Aster who’s eyes popped open at the voice, “What are you doing, silly?’

“He’s just looking at the lights,” Hani said, “But in the safe way that doesn’t hurt your eyes.”

Aster looked over at him, momentarily surprised before he beamed. Even if Hani didn’t see the lights, and if he didn’t know if they were really there, the effortless faith cost him nothing. It was nice to see Aster’s smile, anyway. It sort of made him feel just a little bit warmer. The shivering wasn’t so bad anymore. 

They followed Doa and Buca up the grassy hill to where another adult Pooka was standing in white robes. Most of the Bunnymund colony was here, gathered around them as if they were something special enough to watch. At each smiling face that met his own, the dampness of his fur and the nightmare in the back of his mind dwindled. There were older kits watching them with excited happiness for them, and younger kits watching them with wide eyes, waiting for their own turn. Aster didn’t like all of the eyes on him and shifted to stand a little behind Hani. It was odd, he thought, when Aster was the loudest and most excited kit Hani had ever met. He hiked up his white robe that was dragging on the grass with stifled frustration- because there were so many people watching him- while Hani kept feeling the soft heavy fabric between his fingers and swinging the arm sleeves around with its weight. 

When they stopped, Buca and Doa knelt before the Pooka who wore a white robe that was fancier than theirs. They held up their wrists and with a delicate paint brush, the Pook painted the circumference of their wrists with white paint. There were three white rings on Doa’s wrist; one ring was old and had always been there, sitting on her right wrist, and one new ring rested right above the old one while the other new ring looped around her left wrist. Buca had three as well, but his pattern was opposite- two rings on his left and one on his right. Each ring symbolized the kits they had and the right wrist indicated that their child carried their name. Both their older brother and Hani carried Doa’s name while Aster alone carried Buca’s. The fumes of the paint were so potent that it wafted into Hani’s eyes and stung the water out of them. Doa and Buca breathed heavily, and Hani realized it must be painful, despite the proud look they wore on their faces. Doa’s face was stern, but her chin was tilted up in pride. With closed lips, Buca smiled and his eyebrows pressed together and tilted up like the steady slopes of the hills in the meadows. Both of their eyes were crystal and sparkling, just as they were when Hani or Aster did something good. 

“Let your names echo in the hearts of good souls,” The Pooka said reverently and took a step towards Aster and Hani. This close, Hani could see the silvery white color that reflected in the Pooka’s eyes. He inhaled sharply when the paint brush was lifted up to Aster’s face, but Aster seemed ready, eager even to have the painful paint on him. This paint was darker than the light brown of their natural fur and sank smoothly into the fur on Aster’s temple. At the touch of the light bristles, Aster blinked rapidly as the fumes stung his eyes. 

The Pooka murmured softly as he drew on Aster’s fur with a smooth hand, “It’s okay to let your tears fall. Most kits cry.”

Aster did not cry. Instead, he sniffed stubbornly and squeezed his eyes shut. Hani wondered what he saw. 

“For wisdom,” The Pooka curved the close of the first petal that sat on the left side just above his eyebrow, “For love,” the stroke of the right petal sank into his fur, “For hope,” a perfectly symmetrical diamond shaped petal rested in the center of his forehead. A three petal flower.

For Hani, the paintbrush touched the near tip of his nose and dragged up through his third eye and onto his forehead in one straight line. He resisted the urge to sneeze, cry, and shutter at the odd sensation. At first it didn’t feel so bad, kind of nice actually, like when Aster would take Buca’s clean paint brushes and use the soft bristles to tickle Hani’s face- but then it began to sting. The paint was painful. It burned into his eyes and sank into the pores of his skin. Within minutes, Hani had the strongest urge to itch at the red skin underneath the paint and scratch it all off. But he stood still and let the odd Pooka paint on his fur. 

He felt the long line up his nose curve into a circle at the center as the Pooka murmured, “For sight,” another line traveled from the circle, “For bravery,” two more lines stroked across and Hani let a burning tear slip down his cheek, “For clarity.”

A sun rested on his damp fur, and the paint bled a little from the initial strokes because of it. His sun had ridges on the edges of the smooth lines and no matter how hard Hani tried to smooth over the fur on his forehead and nose to blend it into concise straight lines, the ridges wouldn’t go away unless his fur was damp just as it had been when he received the marking. Hani had taken to licking his paw and using it to dampen the fur and slick over the ridges until they were perfect. Sometimes Aster would help and lick at his forehead just as Doa and Buca used to lick at them when they were younger kits. Hani did it back, even though Aster’s perfect lines didn’t need fixing. Aster never stopped him.

* * *

####  **Winter 2012, the Week before Christmas**

  
  


Bunny was staring at him again. 

A lot. 

Honestly? It was starting to freak him out.

Jack couldn’t really speak, you know, being slightly stalkerish to humans sometimes with the whole outside looking in- but who could blame him? Looking through windows was bad- yes, Jack knew this, but he set boundaries and rules! For starters, he only watched when the family was all together or doing something not-private. That’s all he wanted to see anyway. He wanted to hear the jokes shot over the dinner table, or the indignant flick of water the wife would send towards her partner, or the laughter. Humanity. He was looking for humanity when he looked through those windows. After spending so much time alone, in the woods, it was hard to remember that he had fingers, not claws. But Bunny wasn’t looking at him like Jack looked through windows. 

He was drilling a hole in his head only to drill one into the wall when Jack glanced his way. Jack knew he was picking him apart, dissecting him with that weirdly analytical brain of his and, honestly, who knew right? Bunny always gave off this ‘I’m too smart for you’ vibe so Jack naturally assumed he _wasn’t_ all that smart. A few visits with North that Jack spied in on and he now knew that wasn’t the case. He had joked about being the Guardians therapist, but the guy could totally get a psychology degree if he wanted to. Apparently he was working on some new tech for his Warren. Jack couldn’t understand half of what he explained to North, but it had a lot to do with flowers and eggs and machinery that sounded very smart but not in any way understandable. Jack heard something once about someone only being truly intelligent if they could explain a complex topic in a simplistic, understandable way. Hm. _Makes sense,_ Jack thought, sliding his gaze over to the glaring Bunny and raising his eyebrows in a clear expression that only conveyed mockery. 

“Jack!” North came over to him, arms wide open. Jack ducked out of the hug and floated a few feet in the air just to make sure, “I hear you challenged the Jack-O-Lantern. What’s this? You leave for two months and you already stir up trouble!”

Jack laughed, “Hey, it was him stirring up the trouble, believe me.”

Bunny scoffed. So, _now_ he was joining in the conversation, “I doubt it.”

“Eating children,” Jack coughed into his hand and tried not to smirk at Bunny’s long blink. Smirking could be seen as socially inappropriate in this situation, but he loved wiping that condescending look off of the kangaroo’s face. His eyes were wide and something flashed in them, hurt? Anger? Fear? Jack couldn’t catch it, but it threw him off guard enough to diminish his own confidence. That was awkward. 

“Wot?”

Jack looked away, fighting the urge to flitter back a few feet as the Guardians came to stand around him as he spoke, “I, uh. I stopped him from eating children. Funny, right? Who knew pumpkins ate children? I told him to work out a new diet, but just he went on and on about fear making him hungry for children’s souls or something. It had something to do with Pitch ‘awakening their hunger’ or some...thing.”

How many times did he say ‘something’? Jack had to mentally go back and count and wow. Did he sound like an idiot or what? So much for making Bunny look dumb when Jack should be focusing on not sounding like an awkward teen who didn’t have friends for around two hundred years. 

“Wait, Jack,” Tooth flew close up to his face as she always did. To get close to his teeth, maybe, but she always searched for his eyes when she wanted an answer, “Did you say he was hurting children? _Eating_ them?”

Jack met her purple eyes once before he looked away again. She looked horrified, “Yeah, I mean there’s a lot of things that want to eat kids on Halloween. Pumpkins, goblins, werewolves-“

Sandy’s sand was aggressively making noise, so Jack glanced down at him to see images of all the guardians and the Jack-O-Lantern, “Why didn’t I ask for help? Well- I don’t know. I’ve been doing this for a really long time. It happens every year. I thought you knew.”

North said, “No! Outside of our holiday it is hard to find information of the goings of the world. No way to tell if a light goes out because of fear, age, sickness— or what! They only send me letters.”

“Not pleas for help,” Jack sighed, trying to level his voice into understanding instead of resentment. It had been a few months since October, “That makes sense. You guys don’t travel or _intervene_ a lot.” 

_‘Guardian’s of Children’_ , Jack silently fumed, _maybe I should give_ them _a manual for the job._ Despite guilt settling in the base of his skull, the thought lingered anyway. It built as he thought about how easy it would be if he got help. How protected and safe so many other children would be. How many would still be in their beds. He didn’t need their help, expeccially not with his power upgrade, but what were they doing with theirs? Ignoring the world except on the nights or events that mattered most to them? Jack would have gone for help if he knew that the spirits would be this restless, but there was no time to dash over to the pole. Not when Jeremy was being followed by a witch, and Sandra had accidentally angered the spirit of a malicious scarecrow with a harmless prank. 

“Pressie time, mates,” Bunny said suddenly. Nothing could stop Jack from leveling Bunny with an incredulous and glowering look. It was a week before Christmas and they came for presents and wine- not Jack’s wrath- but they were in the _middle_ of discussing something important. He didn’t have to go and change the subject like that. 

North startled, “Presents? But we are still talking of-“

“It’s related, just come on,” Bunny dragged them to the room where they were gift exchanging. Brushing the sleeves of his hoodie, Jack tried to dismiss his anger with the action. It’s fine. Why would the Guardian’s listen to him anyway? It’s fine. He didn’t need them. He would just have to try harder next year. Alone.

_They are listening to you Jack,_ Twiner piped up and thrummed blue frost into his palms from the wood, _What happened isn’t ‘fine’ and they want to fix it._

_Too late for that,_ Jack thought, a little unfairly. It was unclear who, out of the two of them, produced the guilty feeling. 

The clearing had a modest tree- a surprise in itself- and respective chairs for everyone. North’s was a massive loveseat cushioned to the highest degree. Simplicity wasn’t his style and multiple patterns curled up the sides of the loveseat with extravagant flowers and - mistletoe? Tooth’s chair was low to the ground and wide enough that she could kneel on the fabric; traditionally Indian by the looks of it. The fabric was strong and flexible as it stretched over the wood and her ankles fit between the fabric and the bottom of the back of the chair- perfectly her size. Sandy’s was also low to the ground and a circular shaped arc curved over the square of the backside of the chair that was exquisitely designed. The cushion that was placed on the base was plump enough to make Jack jealous of the comfort luxury. Bunny’s chair surprised him. It wasn’t a chair so much as it was a piece of cloth. Hanging from the rafters, the cloth was bent into a half hammock so that there was no base to the chair, but smooth around the backside that connected to the lowest point. He supposed it made sense as he watched Bunny’s oddly shaped body sink into the swing and hang low enough that his feet could rest against the ground. Jack’s was a simple wooden chair. He didn’t know whether it was because Jack’s style preference was unknown, or because North knew he liked it plain. It was a rocking chair with the classic curved splat for the back and tall simply rails. Jack took a moment to appreciate North’s careful craftsmen ship before he sat down and looked at Bunny curiously. 

He was still upset. Now that they brought it up and acted oh-so concerned about their lack of participation, Jack was a _little_ sour. Did they honestly think that Pitch was the children’s only danger?

North started to stand and speak, but Bunny beat him to it, “I’ll be giving out my presies first.”

“I didn’t know you were so into gift giving, Bunny!” Tooth said cheerfully, trying to bring back the carefree and easy atmosphere that Christmas should have. Jack gave a little smile at Tooth and firmly shoved away the sour feelings. Like it or not, these were his… colleagues, companions, friends, partners, world-saving-buddies? None of them fit, but they helped save the world with Jack. That had to count for something. 

“Yeah, well, Frosted Crackers is right,” Bunny said as he each handed them an egg-shaped wrapped present. Was the egg really necessary?

Jack took the present numbly. Never in a million years would he expect the Easter Bunny to give him a present, or ever say that sentence, much less in the same place and time. That- that _thing_ that he just said, “Okay first of all: what did you just call me? And second: did you just say I’m right? Obviously, I am. I just never thought your inflated ego would allow you to say that.”

His signature scowl returned and his irritated ear flick. It wasn’t a full on pissed ear twitch directed at Jack, but it might be if he poked and prodded some more. 

“Just open it,” Bunny said, crossing his arms. They each unwrapped the eggs and opened the egg shaped box- unnecessary- and a tiny bracelet fell into his hands. So the big box was definitely unnecessary. 

It was a simple band looped twice around itself. A blue gem embedded in the leather reflected light into his eyes. The blue gem was actually crystalized paint, the closer Jack looked at it, supposedly from the rainbow river in Bunny’s warren. The paint was wrapped around a small wooden chip and the shape was curved into a small hexagon- the base shape of a snowflake. The leather was perfectly smooth on the side that brushed his skin and tactfully decorated on the other with swirling designs that vaguely looked like frost and leafed vines. Obvious care and craftsmanship had gone into the simple accessory. 

“They’re communication devices,” Bunny spoke up once the crinkling of wrapping paper was finished. Jack was tempted to rustle his discarded wrapping paper just to throw off Bunny’s speech, “We used to-“

Bunny’s expression crumpled for just a split second and a wave of alarm and sadness ripped through the Guardians, “We used to be able to communicate, telepathically. I’ve gotten a bit rusty. We haven’t… we aren’t as _close_ as we used to be.”

North sighed long and heavy, “Da, we have not been very good friends to each other, no? Not very good friends to Jack.”

The winter spirit jerked in his seat, opening and closing his mouth. As he tried to find the words he wanted to say. Admittedly, the Guardians were jerky to him *cough* _Bunny_ *cough*, but they were the nicest spirits he had been around in a long time. They didn’t even try to kill him! Sure, their disappointment was more soul crushing than any physical thing they could do, but that was partially on Jack. He let his guard down. He made the mistake of following Pitch.

“That’s why we nearly failed when Pitch attacked,” Bunny said.

Tooth started, “Bunny.”

“No, I blame meself,” He said, holding up a paw, “As much as I hate to admit to ya blokes- we should have been closer and I… shoulda been nicer.”

Wow. That was the closest thing to an apology from Bunny Jack had ever expected to receive, “Apology accepted, cottontail!”

Bunny scowled at him and barreled on, “Pitch caught us unguarded and unprepared. We weren’t coordinated. We weren’t even communicating. He tore us away from each other and expeccially from Jack.”

Jack accidentally shifted his foot and the wrapping paper crinkled. Damn. He was actually trying to be nice that time. After a short glare in his direction, mostly directed towards the wrapping paper, Bunny spoke again, “If we communicated, we could have helped Jack protect the children this Halloween. Like we should have been doing.”

“Nice thought, but I don’t need help,” Jack said because when good things happened to him, he liked to shove them away, “I’ve been doing fine without you, thanks!”

Internally, Twiner gave the mental equivalent to a palm to his face.

The four of them drooped, and Jack shrank back a little bit. They didn’t deserve that, not after everything they had been through together. But the apology sat still on his lips, unwilling to be spoken aloud. (There absence still _hurt_ for all the years they hadn’t been there while he waited to be called, to be seen, to be believed in.)

North shook his head, “We have not been there for you, Jack. It is reasonable to be upset.”

“I’m not upset at that,” Jack lied, “I’m just not incompetent, you know? I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

Bunny said, “Not saying that, mate. I’m saying that we didn’t do our job when we should have.”

Jack frowned at the bracelet, “So am I going to be, like, your messenger boy? Because you guys don’t get out much, and I run into a _lot_ of trouble. Not to brag or anything, but I’ve got a system down-“

“Of course you do,” He heard Bunny mutter and watched him roll his eyes. Much to his surprise and delight, North looked sort of proud, “-and I can’t give you a call everytime there’s a kid in danger.”

Tooth perked up, “Well, why not?”

“Uh, because you’re busy? I’m busy? Sounds like you guys are working all year round. No one has time to drop everything just because a snow spirit is feeling extra icy today,” Jack said, not touching his bracelet or fiddling with it like the rest of the Guardians were. Absolutely not admiring the craftsmanship and thinking that it was the prettiest thing someone had ever given him- no sir! “And while you guys have a job for your holidays or nightly shifts or whatever- well, this is _my_ job. Snowballs, fun times, and fight crimes.”

With a puff, sand formed into an inquiring question mark above Sandy’s head and a large pumpkin head playfully animated with large camping teeth, “Like the Jack-O-Lantern. Exactly, Sandy.”

Tooth frowned, “But, my fairies can help. They’re all around the world. And sometimes I’m out in the field. We always keep an eye out, but we normally don't spot anything.”

“Another thing to point out,” Bunny cleared his throat and spoke up before they could veer off topic, “is how strong we let Pitch get. We’re focused on our holidays too much. As much as I love me Easter, it doesn’t matter if Pitch gains his strength again. We were ignorant and blind sighted.”

North stroked his beard, “So what do you suggest, Bunny?”

“Communication for one,” He held up his own bracelet, “No, Frostbite, you don’t have to be our messenger boy. It’d just be more efficient not bouncing over to the workshop whenever we need to chat to someone. Tooth’s palace got attacked because of that. We got separated because of that. Your tree-“ Bunny stopped abruptly and let the rest of the unfinished sentence be swallowed by the next, “Point is! We let our guard down and fell right into his trap.”

Jack winced as he realized that one of the reasons Bunny had made these bracelets because of what happened to the Oak of Sorrows. Not entirely for the purpose of helping Jack, but Jack wondered if he had a way to communicate to Bunny if-

_Jack,_ Twiner interrupted his train of thought, and Jack tightened his hands around his staff at the gentle voice. He looked up from where he had stared at the ground in contemplative silence and his eyes met North’s frowning frame. 

“Just press the largest button and say who ya want ta tele. ”

Fidgeting with the bracelet on his lap, Jack looked at the crystalized blue paint that must be the ‘largest button’. It really was pretty with its hexagonal shape and reflective blue. And it fit on his wrist perfectly, not too tight to feel restricting, and not too loose as to fall off when Jack was flying around. How did Bunny get the right measurements? It couldn’t have been just a guess, but it wasn’t as if Jack stayed in one spot long enough for Bunny to actually take his measurements. And the designs on the leather looked almost exactly like his fern frost. Had he been studying Jack’s art-? _Stop that!_ Jack cut himself off and to distract himself, he experimentally tapped the button and was satisfied to feel it click and sink further into the leather, “Sandman.” 

All of the attention suddenly on him was a bit uncomfortable. So of course he said the dumbest thing to pop into his mind, “This is Jack Frost speaking. Calling from The”Jack cleared his throat in his best announcer voice and looked around the workshop, “North Pole residence.”

No one really laughed, but Jack was used to his audience not responding, so it didn’t derail him. Tooth sort of gave a short little chuckle that sounded like bells, and the Sandman beamed brighter than the moon. Best audience he’s had so far. Bunny said nothing but Jack didn’t really care. He didn’t trust this thing because: 1) Bunny made it and 2) Bunny was an ass. Never mind the fact that Jack irrationally and secretly thought it was the prettiest gift anyone had ever given him. Also he was curious to see if Sandman would be included with his different form of speech. If there was any way Jack could challenge Bunny, he would.

Sandy’s own golden and white bracelet lit up and he turned to Bunny with a question mark, “Already thought of that, Sandy. Send your sand through the bracelet. See that little hole right there?”

Sandy did and Jack watched as sand slithered out of his own brown and blue bracelet and formed a snowflake in sand-speak before dissolving, “Whoa.”

He absolutely did _not_ look at Bunny after his slip of tongue. No doubt the rabbit was preening at the accidental praise. 

North clipped his steel bracelet around his wrist, “So. You propose more communication and union within Guardianship?”

“Aye,” Bunny said, “Those were our weaknesses, and he took advantage of that.”

Humming seriously, North leaned forward and said, “So what I am hearing is you are hosting a party at the Warren every week.”

Jack chuckled at the mental image of Bunny in a party hat and red plastic cup in his hand, “No! You old cobber! If anything you’re only allowed in Warren to train or you need something important.”

Immediately, Tooth and Sandy perked up. Jack tried his best not to show any emotion on his face and did not succeed. Tooth’s wings gave a happy flutter, “Train, Bunny? You would train us?”

“I have the most military combat skills,” Bunny said, not boasting but _almost_ . Was there any way for him to say something and _not_ sound like a prick? Jack narrowed his eyes at Bunny, “If ya want to learn, use the bracelet, and I’ll clear up my schedule.”

Tooth looked touched. Jack figured it was because Bunny wasn’t the type to a) let anyone in his Warren unless absolutely necessary and b) ‘clear up his schedule’ unless the world was ending. Literally.

“Why?” Jack spoke up, “Why do you feel the need to ‘train’ us, cottontail?” 

No formal experience was at hand, but Jack spent numerous years fighting. He knew how to defend himself and an unlucky victim when the situation arose. He even fought Pitch! Granted he lost the first time, but he most definitely tipped the battle in the Guardians favor by the end. 

He meant it as an insult, or a challenge, but Bunny looked at him, deathly serious, and replied, “For war.”

Sandy was surprisingly quiet, a dull and knowing look settling in his golden irises, but North leaned forward in surprise, “War, Bunny? We defeated Pitch. It was close call, but he is weakened and not coming back for a long time.”

Here Bunny leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Jack never thought of Bunny as old, but now he looked as if he carried the wait of time itself. He made a mental note to tease him about the circles under his eyes, “You can never be too careful, mate. Pitch won’t stop. You know he won’t. He’ll be back. Stronger when he is. And every time, every goddamn time, we act all surprised. Hell, _I_ act all surprised, because we think we’ve won the war and pushed him so far back he won’t even _think_ of facing us again- but he always does. We need to stop treating it like we’ve won the war and start treating it like we’ve won the battle.” 

“And what do we do after we win the battle?” Bunny continued and looked directly at Sandman who wore a frown on his sad lower lip. With his sand, he showed a picture of a piece of paper and a map, “That’s right. We plan for the next one.”

In his simple wooden chair, Jack pulled up his legs and crossed them. The tips of his knees fit between the gap of the arms and base of the chair, and he adjusted his feet to rest gently against the bones in his ankles. His hands fell into lap and the new bracelet around his wrist brushed against his skin. How many times had the Guardians fought Pitch before this? Before Jack was alive, that was certain, but from the other spirits, Jack knew the Guardians had been around a long time. By the slouch of Bunny’s shoulders it was easy to tell that Pitch was more of a recurring threat than a bothersome annoyance- the category Jack fell into. He curled up small in his chair and tried not to think about the three chairs around him- larger, older, stronger. He was just some kid playing adult. It didn’t matter that he was three hundred years older than the average adult. In their eyes- or maybe in his own eyes he would always be a kid. Growing up was the circles under Bunny’s eyes and stillness in Tooth’s normally restless fingers. They bore the weight of age- even if not physically- mentally. Jack knew he did too. There were memories that lingered in his mind like sinking oil into the white canvas of fallen snow. He felt the prickle of age- he had to- but he kept it buried under an avalanche and packed tightly under layers of ice and snow. So deep that almost he forgot it was there. So deep that he forgot just how old he really was. Why would he want to be down there with the ice and _cold_ and _dark,_ when he could be up with the snow and wind? It was easy to forget when he never physically grew up in the first place. His large ears never matched the proportionate size of his head. His nose never had the chance to catch up with his face. The baby fat on his boyish face never hardened. His skinny frame never filled out with maturity. Jack was young. Younger than all of them and so very childish. He felt their stares on him, their thoughts on him. How could they speak of war with a child present? 

Sandy nodded and glanced at Jack, sad and unexplainably knowing as he shifted to look up at the rabbit, “We need to be prepared to protect the children and Earth. And we’re not going to be ready if all we do is focus on ourselves and our own holiday.”

Tooth looked at him and then away. North’s eyes rested on a point somewhere behind Jack, in his direction. Did they even realize they were doing it, Jack wondered, or was it only him that felt their concern for him as heavy as a thick quilt? 

“I think this is the least egocentric thing I’ve heard you say, Kangaroo,” Jack said, slipping the bracelet onto his other wrist. It fit perfectly, of course it did, and Jack couldn’t deny that he liked the style. It was delicate and pretty, but not overbearingly decorative or blingy. Jack didn’t usually like jewelry, but this was comfortable and simple and it didn’t inhibit him in any way. It would be nice to talk to Sandy, too. Maybe he could ask him to send Susan, Henry, and Cody extra good dreams to make up for the sleepless nights and trauma that came with the experience of nearly being eaten. 

“Frost.”

“Hm?”Jack jerked up as Bunny cleared his throat and looked away, “Did you say something?”

Bunny shook his head and his jaw clenched in irritation, but if he didn’t know better he would say that his tone was tinted with less annoyance than was usually directed towards Jack, “I _said_ that there is also a location option. When someone is talking to you with it, they can see your location and vise versa.”

“What? Hell no,” Jack stiffened, “This thing’s a tracker?”

He tugged at his wrist where the bracelet sat and resisted the urge to unclamped it. Jack Frost was a wanderer. The idea of having someone knowing where he was at all time sent an unreasonably amount of anxiety down his spine. He was a nomad. There were times when he didn’t want anyone to know where he was, for surface reasons like tricking and pranking, and then personal reasons when he wanted to burrow himself in an Antarctica cave or fly to the edge of a cliff and scream just for the sake of being heard. 

“Calm down, it’s only when someone's having a convo with you. You can reject messages as well, though I highly advise against it, all you have to do is slide your finger across the button and it dismisses the message,” Bunny said, demonstrating what he was explaining. 

Jack said, “You know, Roo, you really just could have gotten us phones.”

“This is better than some square American spying machine.”

An incredulous laugh startled out of him, “Government spying machine? Would that even work for you guys? Adults can’t see you, can they?”

“Us, Jack,” North piped up, subdued for a man so usually eccentric, “They can’t see us. But sometimes there is child who never stops believing. Most likely not a government official, though.”

Jack swallowed quickly, so it was barely noticeable and couldn’t find any words to answer North. He didn’t mention that kind old woman who saw Jack at the Christmas Tree farm. The pain and shock of it felt too raw, too painful to discuss it lightly with the Guardians, “So the government wouldn’t even be able to spy on us,” Jack ignored the weight he subconsciously put on the word ‘us’ and swiveled his head back to Bunny, “and with a phone- they have Netflix. Bet your bracelets don’t have unlimited movies and shows.”

Before Bunny could retort, Tooth interjected and darted up into the middle of the room. Her wings buzzed with the soft and quick pitter-patter rhythm that Jack understood as the dislike for staying seated for too long, “Netflix doesn’t have _free_ unlimited movies and, Jack,” 

Her tone was lightly scolding, like a mother, “Be nice. The bracelets are very tactful, Bunny. I love it.”

He scoffed at Jack, but gave Tooth a quick grateful smile that Jack almost wished he didn’t see as she handed him his present. It was a weapon, surprisingly. A knife that glinted delicately in the warm light of the workshop. It’s surface wasn’t silvery but translucent and kaleidoscopic colors that reflected pastel rainbows on his eyes.

“Tooth…?” Bunny looked up at her with awe and Jack was tempted to break the moment by voicing his confusion. But Jack was good at being quiet and listening, despite the general assumption spirits made of him, so he waited as Tooth swung her arms back and forth excitedly. 

She said, “They were hard to find, but my fairies stumbled upon this in Kansas. It’s a moon ruin, isn’t it? They knew it couldn’t be from this world.”

_From this world?_ Jack echoed in his mind, silently asking for context, but Twiner kept silent. Bunny ran his hand over the ragged edges of the curved blade and the vines on its hilt, “It’s made from stardust. The strongest material.”

His tone was soft, subdued, and his eyes never left the blade, “I haven’t seen one of these since… Show it to Sandy. You used to have one of these, huh?”

Bunny looked up at his friend, and the little man beamed at him before his sand flashed happily above his head. The shape of a knife- no a sword- formed above his head and none but the Sandman himself was welding it. Did he look taller?

North laughed, “Yes! I too am more of a sword man myself, Sandy!”

Tooth looked over her shoulder as Sandy held the knife and said, “Well good thing I didn’t get it for anyone but Bunny.”

North made a gesture and a face that said ‘bah’ as he waved Tooth’s sass away. Jack’s chuckle nearly drowned out Bunny’s quiet, “Thank you, Tooth,” that was said in the tone that Bunny once used with him in the words, _‘not bad yourself’._ Soft and thoughtful. Truthful. The words weren’t an apology, but they meant a little more if it meant Jack earned his respect and his trust. It was a little pathetic how tightly Jack clung to that inch of kindness from Bunny, from anyone really. How he latched to Sandy the moment he showed Jack kinship, how tightly he clung to the Russian doll North had given him. 

He didn’t realize he was staring until Tooth cleared her throat in front of him and Jack tore his gaze away from the rabbit still gazing at the sheen milky color of the blade. Like Bunny’s gift, she didn’t wrap the present, instead choosing to hand it directly into his hands. Three things, gold and light, slipped into the palms of his hands as Jack gaped up at her, “Are these what I think they are?”

She nodded and couldn’t stop the gleeful smile from spreading across her face, “Yes, yes, they are! Your family's teeth! Normally I don’t let teethboxes out of my sight but these are a special occasion. I know how much they meant to you.”

Hovering closer to him, she placed a gentle hand on his knee, “ I know I wish that I had my parents memories with me. ”

“Wow,” Jack looked up at her and then glued his eyes back to the three teeth boxes that sat light as a feather in his hands, “Tooth. I don’t know what to say.”

Thankfully, Tooth could say enough for him and began to ramble, “My abilities allow me to share family memories and sometimes it goes beyond just children. It is more difficult to remind adults, really, and since I only collect children’s teeth, I can only share childhood memories. So, you, um, you won’t be _in_ your parents memories but you will be in your sisters!”

Jack smiled, all teeth and all happiness as he beamed up at her, “That’s more than enough. Thank you.” 

With his own tooth box, Jack still hadn’t received all of his memories. They flowed into his mind like the slowly thawing ice caps in the south pole. He remembered more now, but everything was just a bit blurry. He worried it was because of age- maybe his three hundred year old mind would have forgotten them anyway if he had his memories in the first place. Or maybe there was something wrong with him and his amnesia decided to stick. These teeth, these memories that sat in his hands, they could patch some of those holes Jack feared would never be fixed. 

“I mean, technically I _could_ find your parents memories with you in them and show you,” Tooth blurted and spoke so fast Jack could barely follow, “My abilities involve touch so all I have to do is touch their teeth, it's not like I have to rip out adult teeth or anything that would be just awful. Since my tooth fairies are all connected to me, all they would have to do is touch your parents teeth and then I have the memories and can pass them along to you via touch, but-“

Bunny spoke up, “Hol’ up, Tooth. I thought you said you only collected children's teeth.”

“I do,” She reassured, “ But my abilities involve everyone's memories. So technically I can reshare adult memories.”

Jack looked up from the golden boxes temporarily, “How?”

Seeing his parents grow up would be awesome but if he could see-

“Well I have to find their bodies,” Tooth said, almost apologetically.

“What?” Bunny and Jack spoke at the same time

She went on, “Since I don’t collect the adult teeth- mostly because adult teeth don’t fall out and I’m-“ she scoffed, “-not barbaric. The only way I would be able to share their memories is to find where they were buried. Their skeletal structure should be there and that means their teeth! Sort of like those forensic scientists you know the ones that can take bone and teeth remains and explain what happened-“

Jack’s throat closed up. 

Their _skeletons_ were somewhere. They were buried somewhere. He knew they died, how could he not? Jack knew he lost them, but to actually think of their bodies buried underneath the earth and the fact that they were there long enough to be skeletons-

_How long do you think they waited for me?_ Jack whispered in the caves of his mind. 

_Oh, Jack,_ Twiner whispered. 

He grew up Puritan, Jack knew that much from the flashes of the bible on their table and the cross around his mother’s neck. The thought of Heaven was always a nice idea that Jack tried to believe in it even after he lost his memories. If there wasn’t a family down here for him, maybe up there…? But he didn’t know what to believe. He _wanted_ to believe there was a God and a nice mansion for him and his family, but what God made creatures like the Wendigo and let spirits, good and evil roam the Earth? What God would let _Jack_ into Heaven? 

Bunny and Tooth were arguing, “You can’t just dig up someone's grave to ‘help someone remember the things that are important’ Tooth!” 

“Why?” She shot back, “It’s important! They would have wanted him to remember them, and it's not like I’m digging up their remains for gold, Bunny! I’m respectfully making sure they aren’t forgotten. I’ve done it before and-“

“You’ve done it, before? You’ve disrespected the dead before?” He was tearing at the tufts of fur on his head, “Tooth! You can’t just wake up those that are resting! When you bury someone, you don’t dig ‘em back up! It messes with everything! Their spirits, they’re-”

Their voices hurt his head and the thoughts swirling around there didn’t help. So Jack laughed, like he always did, and thought of something funny to say instead of focusing on the horror he felt at the thought of his parents' faces decomposing and his sisters warm hands as skeleton bones, “What, bun bun? You’re scared of waking up the dead? You know I really didn’t peg you as a zombie believer.”

Bunny looked surprised, and Jack supposed that made sense. He tried not to shrink at the expression on his face. Bunny was defending his parent’s graves after all, but it was easy to fight with Bunny and harder to show how hurt he was at what Tooth suggested, “Not zombie’s, you drongo. Spirits. Everyone’s got a soul. It’s disrespectful to go an’ wake em up after their resting in their place.”

“A soul, huh?” Jack grinned and nodded like it made sense, “Ah, so you’re a believer in the afterlife then?”

“Jack-“

“Yes,” Bunny said it slowly, like it was a threat, or a challenge, “Even spirits believe in somethin’.”

Which was true, Jack figured. He knew North was a Christian, he sort of had to be, and he had met spirits born from religious myths themselves. The idea that Bunny was religious though, that tickled some real form of amusement up in him and Jack found himself giggling with mirth.

“What? You believe ‘All Bunnies go to Heaven’ or something?”

Bunny was out of his seat in a second, real anger flashing across his face. Everyone was talking, calming Bunny down or scolding Jack, or both, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just- you know that movie? ‘All Dogs go to Heaven’? It was too good of an opportunity to pass up-“

“Oh, think that's funny, do you?” Bunny barked and his volume cut through the workshop and seemed to silence all of the bustle and noise.

Jack shot right back, “Yeah, I do,” determined to hold his ground this time- this time Jack wasn’t going to cry like he had when they fought before the battle and when Bunny saw Oak die. Why was it that the Easter Bunny always saw him cry? 

“You think that’s a joke?” Something angry but not _just_ anger seeped into Bunny’s voice, “Yeah, let's make fun of what _I_ believe because I’m just a-!“

He stopped and his harsh breathing fanned across Jack’s face, warm in the way that he was not, and melted a bit of the frost on his face into dew. Ridges bunched at the base of his nose from his anger that was starting to wither with doubt, “I’m a-“

Automatically, the words Jack threw at Bunny before the fight with Pitch came to the forefront of his mind: ‘if you’re not a kangaroo, _then what are you?’_

Now, Bunny didn’t seem to know himself.

Jack’s confident smile dropped off his face in confusion. What happened to the confident ‘I’m a bunny. The Easter Bunny’? He had seen Bunny do some embarrassing and surprising things (turn into a baby sized rabbit, scream in North’s sleigh, yelp at the coldness of Jack’s snowball), but hesitating wasn’t one of them. Why was he-?

“Get it through your thick skull,” He seethed instead of finishing, jabbing a finger in Jack’s direction. Jack was level with Bunny’s raging green eyes yet again, “I’m not a kangaroo, I’m not a dog, _I’m not an animal!”_

But Jack knew that. Bunny walked on two feet, and had hands, and created eggs that walked, for crying out loud. He wasn’t an animal, but Jack didn't really know _what_ he was either. Not a human, not an animal. His appearance mimicked that of a rabbit, but the closest animal that made sense was- arguably- a kangaroo. And the accent too! Bunny had made a joke about it and everything. So why was this such a big deal now? Jack was joking and yes, the joke was mean spirited, but he never meant to insinuate that he saw Bunny as a _dog_ or a pet. ‘All dogs go to Heaven’ was just a reference for his joke. The idea that ‘All Bunnies go to Heaven’ was hilarious!

_Oh my god_ , Jack thought with sudden clarity and alarm, _he really does believe there’s a bunny heaven._

Twiner, who had reminded Jack that even Bunny ‘believed’ in something, hesitated at his word choice, _I don’t think that’s necessarily the right way to go about thinking about this._

_That’s…_ Jack tried not to smile and carefully made his face blank. _‘Adorable’_ popped into his head, but the surprise he felt from Twiner immediately had him mentally remediating to- _really jerky of me. Oh shit, I just insulted his beliefs._

Twiner sighed, _Yes, you did. And you basically called him an animal while you did it._

It occurred to Jack that maybe being called a kangaroo hurt Bunny just as much as being called invisible hurt Jack. Maybe it was Twiner, actually, that thought of it. 

“Alright, Bunny _,_ ” Jack said, not knowing if he was emphasizing his name to calm him down or rile him up. He held up one hand while the other tightened on his staff just in case the argument didn't end there.

They called him ‘Bunny’, and he was, well, a bunny. He had said so himself! To Jack’s very face! Though he didn't know that much, he knew bunnies were animals. Jack also knew lots of spirits that saw themselves as a higher form of animals, but they still acted and identified as animals. The Easter Bunny was the first animal-like creature he met that acted completely human- at least mostly. If Bunny saw himself as something completely separate from an animal then, hey, that was fine, but maybe he shouldn’t call himself ‘Bunny’ then. 

“Chill, jeez,” Jack added when Bunny growled at him in response. Who knew rabbits-not-rabbits could growl?

“No I won’t _chill_ you-“ Bunny angrily rose up but Sandman placed a small hand on him and minutely shook his head, eyes clouded with sadness. Jack tried not to shrink with guilt- disappointing them all _again._

A disapproving note echoed from Twiner and Jack tilted his lip down in a minute expression of guilt. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but then Jack remembered that Bunny never apologized to him for the ‘whole invisible thing’ when Jack apologized to him about the ‘whole kangaroo thing’. Not formally at least. Acknowledging your jerkiness was not an apology. For now, he would just back down. He had some pretty good retorts on the tip of his tongue too! But he knew that would be taking it a little too far- Twiner was his conscience for a reason. Frankly, Jack just wanted to get out of here, and the sooner they end this fight, the sooner the gift giving would be done and he could leave. 

_I’ll be nice to him,_ Jack thought, _when he’s nice to me._

Twiner weakly protested in the back of his mind, something about never ending cycles and stubborn children, but the fight had dispelled when they broke eye contact. He was still floating in the air as Bunny trudged over to his seat by Sandy as his guide and refused to look at Jack. Guilt and frustration were gnawing at his insides, but Jack forced himself to sit instead of darting away like he wanted to do in any situation he didn’t like. Apparently normal people didn’t ask the wind to take them away when they were in uncomfortable social situations. Weird. 

To get his mind to stop whirling, Jack was focused on his tooth boxes again. As he ran his thumb up and down the diamond designs on the side of the box and over his mother’s young smile, Jack realized she was missing a tooth in her depicted image. Just like Jamie. Jack swallowed thickly and blinked to dispel the images of cracked jaws and white yellow teeth that he had seen on television horror screens. He felt Bunny’s eyes and looked up to see his scowl change directions again and shift away.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Arivum Pooka: Living in the Savannah/grasslands area of their world. On this planet, their crops grow the best in this climate and the majority are farmers and harvesters. (More will be released in later chapters)
> 
> Nixava Pooka: Living in the mountainous, forest area of their world. Physically stronger, taller. Fanged and usually six armed. They have large padded feet. Their fur resembles their climate of snow and is white and very thick.
> 
> Ahua/Kahua- Aster’s and Hani’s Doa and Eamon’s Doe. Part Arivum Pooka and Nixava Pooka  
> Eamon/Amon- Aster’s and Hani’s Buca and Ahua’s Buck. Arivum Pooka  
> Hani/Khani- Aster’s brother and twin light. Arivum and Nixava Pooka  
> Kheamha- Ahua’s Buca. Aster and Hani’s grandbuca. She/her pronouns. Nixava Pooka
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience
> 
> ~
> 
> So I hope you guys don’t think the first part of this chapter is too cheesy, but have you heard kids playing? It’s ridiculously cute and is bound by no logic. I think Aster was extremely creative as a kid, painting, inventing games, questioning. He invents this cute little game of hiding treasures that later becomes the basis for his own holiday! I’m sorry for all this dramatic writing but I literally cannot write fluff without angst or angst without fluff. It’s a packaged deal. 
> 
> The Sun Ceremony, as explained a few chapters back, is basically a ceremony where the colony is like ‘yay! Your children aren’t dead yet!’ Becuase a lot of kits are lost before the age of one due to the anguish creatures and other things. Doa and Buca sheltered their kids from most of it while they could though.They get tattooed markings on their fur for different accomplishments and meanings. Aster has a sort of lotus flower on his forehead, and Hani has a setting sun on his. 
> 
> For the Christmas Party- their had to be a fight, right? I mean, it’s Bunny and Jack. I’ve been so excited to post this chapter for awhile, I actually wrote this chapter first before writing all of the others and it’s one of my favorites (I literally say that for all of them I’m so bad) because of all the dialogue. 
> 
> I’ve been thinking for awhile about the whole ‘Bunny is an animal’ thing and how he would react to it and I think that being called a Kangaroo by Jack hurt a lot more than everybody thought it did. He comes from a civilization and is intelligent, but no matter what he does, people still see him as a dumb animal. Jack is very confused on the matter and maybe if Bunny explained it, there wouldn’t be a problem, but since when has communicating been a thing???
> 
> Tell me your thoughts, questions, anything. What’s a bunny heaven look like? Why won’t Twiner answer Jack’s questions? Was Sandy taller? What’s a Sgidha? Does Aster have any white rings on his wrist? (I probably won’t answer your question now but I promise I will!)


	10. A Force of a Wave of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re looking for a crack chapter mixed with hints of fluff and angst then you are in the right place.

#### Still Christmas 2012  
  


Tooth was handing out the rest of her presents, and she fluttered near Jack to cross over to North. He muttered a quiet, “Sorry,” that he was sure she heard but she didn’t respond to. Tooth gave North a coat. Surprising, seeing that Santa’s red coat was kinda a big deal and he probably didn’t want to get rid of it. 

“What!” North exclaimed and the tension in the room broke, “How did you get this?” 

Tooth’s wings fluttered, “I have my ways.”

“This is…” North held up his coat with shocked awe, “This is _my_ coat, but no blemish or rips in it.”

Tooth said, “It was in pretty rough shape after the fight.”

True to his word, the coat was practically shining in the golden light from the Christmas tree. The black buttons were polished and gleaming and the embroidered fur was white rather than the muted gray it had been before. The intricate designs on the fabric had not been covered up and somehow the tears and holes were magically fixed as if they were never there, “You sneaky fairy. You steal my coat right from under nose!”

Jack piped up, “Weren’t you the one to tell me you were very ‘mysterious? Looks like Tooth’s got you beat.”

“Ha!” North laughed, “Should never have told you that. She is very good at the hide and seek. You have a mysterious streak too, no?”

“I would probably go for ‘mischievous’ to describe Jack,” Tooth corrected and smiled over at Jack, and just like that, Jack knew he had been forgiven. Now, Bunny on the other hand, would be something he had to work on, and he was not looking forward to it. 

Jack tilted his hand this way and that, “Eh, probably.”

They turned back to each other with a “I wanted you to look nice this year for Christmas,” and a “that is very kind of you,” when Jack caught Sundy's eye, and his eye roll. He raised his eyebrows and Sandy grinned at being caught in the act and inclined his head towards Tooth and North. Jack tilted his head to the side in confusion and Sandy waved him off with his hand. Shrugging, Jack decided to shift the bag behind his seat closer to him. It was the bag full of presents for the Guardians. It was embarrassing, really, how less of quality Jack’s present for the Guardians were than the ones they gave to him so far. Tooth’s present to him was absolutely perfect, though her presentation could use some work, and Bunny’s gift was, for lack of a better term, expensive. He doubted Bunny actually spent money on the gift, but he spent time and resources to create the piece of tech for Jack even though they weren’t exactly on good terms. 

His gifts were…

“Jack! You have your bag of gifts ready for us, yes?” North said, snapping Jack out of his thoughts. 

“Me?” Jack sat up like a student called on by a teacher, “What about Sandy’s gift from Tooth?” 

“I already passed everything out,” She was kneeling in her chair instead of handing out gifts anymore and Sandy waved a hat in his hands. Apparently it was one of his favorites that he had worn in the past, but had lost. Tooth was good at revisiting old memories and her skills involved more than just revisiting them if the Guardians gifts from her were anything to go by. 

He stood, trying to work the nerves out of his system, “Alrighty then.”

Jack had never given gifts before. Or received them. The Guardians could give him a dollar store stuffed animal and Jack would treasure it all the same. But giving gifts? Who knew if the Guardians would toss out what he made for them or find no purpose in it. 

Starting with Sandy was the best idea, because on a subconscious level, Sandman was safe. He wouldn’t chuck Jack’s gift into the wall or give him an awkward thanks for a gift he didn’t want. Sandy would be kind at least. Jack reached into the sack he had scavenged from a few decades back and pulled out the trinket he crafted. It was part glass and part wooden, a dolphin glass carving that Jack found discarded on the beach of a touristy town. It was broken in a few places so Jack carved the broken tailpiece and the stand it had snapped from with painstaking detail. There was a splintered crack through the middle of the dolphin’s glass side and Jack had fixed it up with a bit of a blue, sparkling frost that made it look as if it was intentional. The real exciting part of it was that Jack made it move. The stand that the dolphin stood on was created similarly to carnival horses. Just wind up the lever and up and down the glass dolphin would move and swim through space. It stayed on it’s stand because Jack could never figure out how to make his animated ice carvings permanent, being made of ice and all. 

Sandy gasped and cupped the stand in one hand and the glass body in the other. He looked up at Jack with a beaming smile and inclined his head towards it in question. A little hammer appeared above his head in Sand speak. 

“Yeah,” Jack shifted his feet, “I made it. It moves too, watch.”

He twisted the lever a few times and the little dolphin began to move. No music, though. He couldn’t figure out how to make music boxes without stealing more materials that would definitely put him on the naughty list. Sandy liked it all the same and the tight anxiety that curled in his throat loosened. The wind bubbled closer and swam alongside the animated dolphin as if to encourage it. 

“That is fantastic, Jack!” North said and Sandy nodded enthusiastically. 

He shrugged but couldn’t help the pleased flush of frost that covered his cheeks, “It’s no fancy bracelet or toy from Santa’s workshop, but I can make a few gears spin.”

Tooth was grinning at him and he wondered if he’d ever get tired of her smile. For all her compliments about his teeth, her teeth were perfect and easy on the eyes, “Why a dolphin, Jack?”

He and Sandy shared a glance, “Oh, well it’s the first time I met the little man. Dream dolphins are wicked good at tag.”

They laughed and Jack forced a steadying breath out of his clenched smile. Tooth was next and she was pretty sentimental, wasn’t she? Jack knew he could never top her gift to him, but he couldn’t say he didn’t try. First he handed Baby Tooth her gift, and she took it gingerly with her miniature hands. It was a tiny carved snowflake, painted with whatever blue paint Jack came across. It helped that Jamie let him borrow some of his art supplies. The snowflake had been the hardest thing to carve since it was so tiny that she could probably wear it as a necklace, but it was no less detailed. 

Baby Tooth squeaked in excitement and flew circles around Jack’s head, ruffling his hair as she went. He laughed, “Well, I had to get you a gift, Baby Tooth.”

She looked guilty and twittered her apologies and he shook his head, “Hey, I’m sure you helped Tooth pick out my gift. In fact, I bet it was your idea!”

“Hey!” Tooth mock exclaimed and Baby Tooth brightened and nodded, confirming Jack’s suspicions. 

“It can also help me find you when you have some time off,” Jack said, shrugging, hoping that Baby Tooth still wanted to hang out with him, “Since it has a bit of my frost in it. Don’t worry about it melting.”

At this, her smile grew even wider, showing off her little rows of white teeth and banished any of Jack worries. Tooth looked at him, surprised, “You can find anything that has your frost on it?”

Jack nodded, “Yup! I mean, it’s traces of my energy and magic so I can tell where I’ve been and where I need to go. It really helps around this time of year when I can’t remember if I’ve visited the warmer areas yet or if I need to get back to the ones that go through an unexpected warm front and melt everything.” 

“Yes, yes!” North grinned, “You told me you spread autumn and winter and ‘cheer it up’.”

Bunny raised a brow in silent curiosity, but didn’t say anything. Tooth, on the other hand, perked up at this, “Really? I didn’t know you spread autumn and winter!”

“Seasonal spirit, remember?” Jack tapped his staff against the tile and the frost eagerly sprouted in fern designs across the floor. Hm. He should get back to work soon if the restless frost was anything to go by, “I kickstart autumn and make sure winter’s under control. There’s a reason there hasn’t been an ice age since I’ve been around.”

He was joking sort of, but Bunny jerked up and glared at Jack. _Here it comes,_ Jack thought, _Easter of ‘68 again._ But Bunny just frowned again and looked at the floor, “Say… how long have you been around, Frost? Two hundred years you said?”

“Three hundred, around the 1700’s I think,” Jack corrected and then continued to barrel on before Bunny could accuse him of anything, “I know I’ve caused some blizzards but nothing like I’ve heard happen before.”

Bunny scoffed in a way that Jack wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or not, “No, nothing like an ice age since you’ve been running the show.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘running the show’. I keep out of territories that aren’t mine,” Jack shrugged, “I just frost over the leaves and make sure kids don’t stay out in the snow too long.”

All of the Guardians frowned at the last part of what Jack said, and that was a can of worms he really didn’t want to open. In the corner of his eye he saw Tooth fidgeting with the feathers on her bended knees and turned to her, “But you _could_ say I'm a bit of an ice master.”

He gave her a necklace and tried not to feel embarrassed about the assumptions made when a guy gives a girl a necklace. He didn’t mean it like _that_ anyway. It was a small glass bottle with bits of snow and ice swirling around in it. Inside, the snow was dancing in a shapeless blur until it settled on a picture. The ice condensed into the shape of a little girls face momentarily before it shifted to a boy, slightly older, and then another kid with a toothless smile, and another-

“I had Baby Toth help me out with this one,” Jack said, grinning with the knowledge that his little magic experiment worked, “The snow in the bottle shifts into whatever memory you're thinking of. I’m guessing right now that you're thinking about all the kids you have to collect teeth from tonight, huh?”

“Oh wow,” Tooth whispered, “Jack, this is amazing. How-?”

“Baby Tooth let me use one of her feathers to tie it to you,” Jack said. Physical pieces of someone like their hair, their teeth, or their feathers, connected them to whoever held their magic. He asked Baby Tooth if it was alright to use her feather and when she said yes, he knew that subconsciously, Tooth must have been okay with it too. He would never use it to hurt them but trusting someone with a piece of yourself was huge, “and your memories. But only when you're wearing it. I hope that’s okay-?”

Tooth zipped up and hugged him tightly, “It’s perfect! I can’t believe you can do magic like that.”

“You pick up a few things,” Jack shrugged, not really sure how exactly he made it work either. The image of snow in the bottle was of Baby Tooth and Jack, and he smiled. 

North’s gift was similar to Tooth’s and Jack blamed it on his limited knowledge of his magic. It was a snow globe with no special portal powers or magical uses- Jack wouldn’t attempt anything like that. But it held a carved house in the center of the snow- real snow Jack created- not those fake flakes, thank you very much. He figured it would be cold enough in the workshop for the water in the globe to stay at a temperature that wouldn’t melt the snowflakes. But it was the house that Jack was proud of. Like the snowflake for Baby Tooth, it was carved with miniature details. The columns around the doorframe swirled red with designs, mostly fern-like due to Jack’s habit of frosting things over in that design. But there were diamond designs and circles and flowers. Vines that crawled over the rooftops and leaf like notches in the wood of the window frame. 

“I wanted to say thanks for...” Jack trailed off a little embarrassed as he handed North the snow globe, “you know, letting me stay in your home.”

The house in the snow globe was the home Jack always wanted. It was large for a house, but not too large. Three stories and an attic that would most definitely be Jack’s room if he had the choice. Three windows on each level and a small little deck for the master bedroom. Jack studied houses a lot, imagining what it would be like to have one, so he didn’t even need to look at a reference as he carved the house. He knew exactly what he wanted his home to look like. Supposedly he should have carved North’s workshop in the globe, but this house felt like home in a meaningful way that Jack knew would be a more genuine thanks to the man. 

North didn’t say anything while Jack trained his eyes on the floor still. From this angle, all Jack could see were his large hands cupped gently around his snow globe, “North…?”

Jack risked a glance upwards and found glassy tears in the old man’s eyes. His mouth fell open in shock as North looked as if he were trying very hard not to let his emotions slip out. Clearing his throat twice, North said, “This is very nice, Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“Da,” He sniffled and cleared his throat at the same time, “Will treasure this.”

That was all it took to have Jack beaming at him. He ducked his head again and tried not to shuffle his feet. Internally, Twiner was celebrating with him and building up the joyful feeling that was bouncing around, “Jack.”

“Yes?” He looked up again, schooling his happiness into a smaller smile.

North reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, “You are _always_ welcome in my home.”

Blinking a few times to dispel the heartbreaking emotion that threatened to burst out of the avalanche Jack carefully hid it in, he said, “Thanks, North.”

He saved Bunny for last. The rabbit probably thought it was because of their fighting match just a few minutes ago, but Jack was glad he went in that order. Each Guardian lifted his sprints a bit so Jack would be able to be happy enough to give Bunny his present. Even if Bunny was still an ass. 

_See?_ Twiner chimed, _They are your friends_. 

_Maybe_ , Jack quipped, just to be difficult, but Twiner was usually right. 

Opposite of his current feelings, Jack walked up to Bunny’s chair, hammock thing, confidently. In actuality, Jack’s confidence was just starting to slip as he saw Bunny’s apprehensive and judgemental face. He eyed Jack’s sack with weariness and Jack decided to worry him further and broadening his grin. 

“Here you go!” 

For a moment, Bunny just stared at the object in his hands, searching for some hidden meaning before his eyebrows furrowed and he said, “Mate. This is just a piece of glass.”

“Actually,” Jack steeled himself and grinned, “It’s a window.”

Gently, he tilted the simple square shard of glass in Bunny’s hands until it was vertical to the ground and positioned between Jack and Bunny- like a window. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Jack grinned, “would you blow on the glass?”

Bunny glanced at him wearily, “That’s stupid. I’m not-“

Jack sighed, “Would you just blow on it, Bunny?”

Suspicious but curious, Bunny awkwardly leaned towards the glass and breathed on it. The shard was cold to the touch from Jack holding it so when Bunny’s hot breath came in contact, it immediately fogged over. With a moments hesitation to linger on doubts and anxieties, Jack flipped the glass over so the fog was facing him and started to draw. With his finger, he drew the crude outline of a bunny silhouette as he still held the glass. As he finished drawing the little bunny, he could almost sense Bunny’s anger and offense building up. 

“What the devil is-“

At that moment, Jack flicked his eyes closed and concentrated. _Come on,_ the anger fizzled out as Jack tried to imagine just what a real rabbit would look like and do. With a musical little sprinkle of frost and magic coming to life, the drawn bunny stepped out of the glass and padded a few steps towards the Easter Bunny. 

Bunny’s pick noise twitched in surprised as his ice sculpture came to life and mimicked a real rabbit sniffing its surroundings. It abruptly jerked away, and the rabbit began to hop, dancing around their heads. As it circled around Jack’s head he let out a happy laugh and was surprised to hear Bunny’s surprised laugh follow. It hoped around Bunny for a few moments until it suddenly burst, just as it had with Jamie, and the snowflakes drifted down and nipped at Bunny’s pink nose. His green eyes lit up at the touch and flickered over to Jack with a question in them, but no hostility this time. 

“I…” Jack suddenly felt the need to be nervous, “ thought you might want to know how I got Jamie to believe in you again.”

Bunny’s expression changed, but to what, Jack didn’t know, so he decided to keep talking and let his rambling save him, “It wasn’t that hard, since he was already talking to his stuffed rabbit like it was you, and he really thought it was going to answer too! Cute kid. But it didn’t, obviously. I couldn’t just wait for you guys to get there because by then, well. But I couldn’t do anything since he couldn’t see me, sooo I drew on the window. I drew some eggs too, but I didn’t make them come to life or anything, just the bunny.”

“Just the bunny?” 

Jack glanced at Bunny not understanding why that detail was the most important, but confirmed, “Just the Bunny. Sorry it doesn’t look like you. I thought kangaroo’s might confuse him- I mean-“ 

Bunny looked at him with a warning scowl and Jack clamped his mouth shut.

Panic, double the amount because of Twiner feeling it too, raised up in him and the joke Jack made without thinking, but Bunny, surprisingly, didn’t look like he was going to lift Jack by his collar. He seemed thoughtful instead. 

“Dancing eggs would have topped it off though,” Bunny said, instead and Jack could breathe steadily again. He looked up at Jack and smiled, _smiled_ , and Jack had to remind himself it was probably because of the joy he infused in the flakes. 

“Um, the glass doesn’t- you don’t have to keep the glass-“ Jack started to say. 

Bunny raised his eyebrows, but there was a teasing hint to it that Jack hadn’t heard before, “Oh, do ya need it back?”

“No, not really, I don’t do this for just everyone, you know,” Jack said and then cringed.

Bunny laughed, a sort of surprised, one syllable, laugh and said, “Well, then I think I might keep it, if that’s ‘right with you.”

“Sure,” Jack said because what was he supposed to do? Tell him _no_? If Bunny wanted to keep it a cheap one pane piece of glass then Jack wasn’t going to stop him. He also didn’t try very hard to stop the bubbling feeling in his chest that came with it. Truly, he half expected Bunny to chuck the glass pane against the wall the moment that Jack started drawing a small rabbit, but Bunny wanted to keep something Jack had scavenged in someone’s trash. Bunny wanted to keep an insignificant object that didn’t do anything just because Jack had given it. For kicks maybe. Or _maybe_ Bunny really was that ‘caring’ sentimental rabbit North had called him so many months ago. 

“I also made you an actual carving,” Jack said and pulled out a wooden figure that was near replica of the drawing on the window, “but it doesn’t move, sorry.”

“Oh,” Bunny set the glass pane on his lap and took it into his hands, “Cheers, mate.” 

The carving was solid, made of heavy wood and carved with not as much fine detail, but rougher shapes. Jack spent a lot of time on it, but the style didn’t require such minuscule details as the others. The texture was in the rabbit’s ears and the whittling strokes that almost made it look like fur. The detail was in the fine-tipped claws and the whiskers on its cheeks. He studied it with such close attention, Jack would automatically assume he was judging it if they didn’t just carry out the most civil and _enjoyable_ talk they ever had. He would have to apologize, Jack thought deliriously, for calling him an animal. Maybe if he did then Bunny would talk to him nicely again. 

“Thanks for the bracelet, by the way,” Jack said quickly and sat down before Bunny could find something to critique.

He let out a large breath that the wind scooped up and helped push out of him. The wind was always helpful when it came to breathing techniques. Sandy handed out his gifts next, joking that he couldn’t measure up to Jack’s gifts- which was a crazy thing to think so Jack just chuckled and shook his head. 

Sandy was giving out gifts, but Jack couldn’t help but steal glances at Bunny. To test out his mood, his reaction. The scowl and the grump were no longer present and sometimes Jack caught Bunny looking at the glass pane as if he thought the snowflake rabbit was going to step out of it again. Jack turned his attention back to Sandy with a triumphant grin. It was a trick that was Jamie’s idea, actually. True to his word, Jamie reported everything suspicious he saw to the leaves and the leaves dutifully passed the message along. They had gotten on the subject of Christmas one day and Jack flew around to the window to carry on their conversation by drawing a message in Jamie’s window. To his surprise, Jamie had answered his grumbling about ‘what to get for the Guardians’ with a cutest drawing of a bunny on the window, just like the one Jack had one brought to life for Jamie. It was then that Jack was struck with the briljant idea to reenact it. Bunny sounded so surprised that night ‘ _you made him believe_ \- in me?’, so Jack thought it would be a nice trick to show him a little bit of his magic. Clever tricks were his favorite but when they happened to be _good_ as well it was just icing on the cake. Plus no one wanted to beat him to a corpse for a harmless prank this time. A win in his book and smile from Bunny. 

Jack was still outrageously confused about their fight, but if Bunny smiled at him it should be fine, right? Swept under the rug? He’s off the hook? 

Twiner piped up, sarcastically saying, _Off the hook, huh?_

_Shh_ , Jack hushed him noncommittally and focused on the Christmas exchange.

To Tooth, Sandy gave sea glass and gems that he had collected from his shores over the years. They held warped memories of time and waves in a way that no other preserved item had. North was given a book that Jack missed the title to but had both of them talking excitedly about the contents. To Bunny Sandy, oddly enough, gave him an egg. An egg he apparently found that he thought Bunny might like. There was no creature inside it, but Bunny shot up excitedly with a “Where did you find this? Bloody Larken!” when Sandy presented him the fragmented pieces of the egg that had been taped back together and showed Bunny the strange sea creature it came from in sand speak. A collection of eggs was one thing he should have expected Bunny to have in hindsight, but it still had him double checking with Twiner to make sure it heard correctly. 

When they were done talking about eggs and the various creatures that might grow from them, Sandy floated up to Jack, beaming. Unlike Tooth and Jack, Sandy had wrapped his presents with golden paper and a white bow. Nearly giddy with the action of unwrapping a gift box, Jack tore off the paper and looked inside the box. 

It was a pillow. The pillow case was light yellow, a muted and pleasant tone, and as Jack lifted the pillow out of the box, his thumbs sank down into the material. 

“It’s so _soft_ ,” Jack marveled and shoved his face into it. One could say that his face practically disappeared as it sunk into the surface of the pillow. If Jack didn’t need to breathe he would have kept it there. His shock and glee is what earned laughter on all sides from the Guardians, but he was paying more attention to the subtle cushion and fluff to the pillow as he squeezed it. It wasn’t overly large and luscious, like the pillow on Sandy’s chair, but it was almost firm. Jack was grateful for the hard quality to it but also appreciative of the new experience of softness that Sandy offered. It was no firm bark trunk, but Jack was excited to say the least. 

“Good choice, Sandy,” North commented with snark, “Since Jack has slept all summer.”

Bunny gave an odd sort of laugh that bordered on nervous. Jack rolled his eyes, “Not all summer.” 

“What do you mean ‘not all summer’?” North mimicked indignantly, “You never left room!” 

“C’mon, North. You didn’t really think I stayed in my room the whole time, did you?” Jack tilted his head to the side in the image of perfect innocence. 

Tooth gasped, “But we tried to see you and Bunny said you were sleeping!”

“I thought the bloke was!” 

“I mean,” Jack shrugged and glanced at Tooth and North with a grin, “You’re not the only one who’s good at hide and seek.” 

North pointed a finger in his direction, “You…” 

Bunny shot before North could finish, “Then where were ya?”

It struck Jack as especially funny since Bunny was the one who visited frequently for Jack’s sake, “Oh you know, in the kitchen, around the elves, in the rafters. You’d be surprised how easy it is to gain the elves trust. They’ll tell you _anything_.” 

“In the rafters?” Bunny repeated and looked as if he were putting the pieces together. 

North said, “Da! Jack would hide in the rafters just to-“

“I would scare him!” Jack cut in before North could lie, “Totally scared the bejeezus out of him every time!” 

“Startle! Not scare!” North said, “Instead of saying ‘hello’ like a friend would, Jack-“

Jack snorted as he continued, “-would jump down from the rafters- sometimes on my shoulders!” 

“Who can say that they’ve scared Santa Clause?” Jack challenged, “What better way to start the conversation than bringing up that story? Never in a million years would I believe that I would have ‘Scaring the living daylight’s outta Santa Claus’ down on my list of accomplishments.”

“Only you would see that as an accomplishment,” Bunny grumbled, back to his grumpy self. Well the smiles and thoughtful looks were nice while they lasted. 

Jack preened at him, “And only someone who’s never accomplished it would say that.”

Tooth was still pouting, “But me and Sandy wanted to see you.”

At that, Jack winced and admitted, “Sorry. I just… needed to disappear for a little bit.”

Each Guardian fell silent, knowing in their own way what that meant. Jack found himself thinking back to that conversation North had with Bunny on each defense mechanism the Guardians showed. The fighting for North, the sleeping for Sandy, the hiding for Tooth. Jack felt like all three. Bouncing around the globe, hiding from the only people who treated him like he was worth their time, fighting any spirit that showed an inch of a threat. No one ever said grief was pretty, huh?

“Well,” North stood, “I believe it is time for my gift giving. Good thing I have gone last. What is the expression? Save the best for last, eh?”

At his friendly jab, Bunny scowled but accepted the large brightly wrapped gift. North crossed his arms and brought a hand up to stroke his beard, “Square shaped gifts are much more practical, no?”

“Not on yer arse!” Bunny barked, but unwrapped the present anyway, “Egg’s happen ta be the most efficient and interesting shape-“

North pshed, “Yes, yes we know all about your egg obsession, crazy Rabbit.”

“You’ve got an awful lot of square shaped things around your workshop but ye don’t see anyone jabbing at ‘em,” Bunny lifted an accusing finger towards North’s towering frame, “I guess it’s just ‘make fun of the Easter Bunny day’!”

Now that Jack thought about it, humans, he supposed he could say, were slightly obsessed with squares and rectangles. Not in the ‘let me harvest billions of eggs to spread to each continent’ sort of obsession, but most human’s preferred rectangle houses, parallel streets and neighborhoods, neat boxes to package their things in. 

“Bah, you are too easy to tease,”North waved him off and nodded towards Jack, “Jack knows this, eh?”

Jack shoved away the guilt in lieu of grinning madly up at North to encourage him.

“Don’t bring him into this,” Bunny mumbled into the present as he used a sharp claw to rip through the large bow that was refusing to come off.

Jack lifted his hands in mock innocence, “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Bunny looked up to glare at him, “But you were _thinking_ it, weren’t ya-“

“Bunny!” Tooth exasperated, “Just open the present!”

He sniffed indignantly instead of answering, but lifted the lid of the box. Inside rested a… nesting doll. Nearly the size of Jack’s chair. The box must be enchanted or something, because the nesting doll was much bigger than the box it came from. Here, Bunny sighed, very, very loudly. Face sagging in the palm of his hand, Bunny only said, “It’s that time of year then, huh?”

“Yes!” North said, enthusiastic as ever, “Has been another decade since we met you and your egg army.”

“ _Egg_ army?”Jack butt in, incredulous. 

North hummed, “Yes. Surprisingly tactful.”

“Course they were,” Bunny said, peeking through his hands to study the large nesting doll of himself, “I made ‘em didn’t I?”

Jack said, “Where were they at the battle with Pitch?”

An egg army could be useful even if they were eggs. North seemed impressed by them and Jack knew there was strength in numbers. One of his hands that ran over the surface of the smooth wood paused, “Destroyed,” was all he said before he went back to inspecting the doll with a careful eye. He looked up at North with a slight smile, “Your paint job’s not too bad.” 

“Oh?” North raised an eyebrow in return, seeming to miss the entire exchange Jack and Bunny just had, “Good to have the infamous Easter Bunny’s approval then.”

Glancing at other’s for some sort of explanation, his eyes met Tooth’s and she gave him a sad little smile. Sandy shook his head so Jack dropped it, reluctantly, and glanced back at the bickering two. The doll was flawlessly crafted, unlike Jack’s small nicks and mistakes in his own carvings, and it displayed a smiling Bunny, eyes closed in mirth and grin wider than he had ever seen it. 

“So? What’s it then?” Bunny turned the nesting doll’s head and wryly asked, “Stupidity?”

“Humor,” North answered, “Is hard to see the serious old Rabbit as humorous, I know. But if you get to know him a little better, I think you see him when he’s not worrying about his grumpy reputation.”

Jack laughed at Bunny’s indignant, “Oi!” And North’s eyes sparkled with amusement and wonder. He clamped Bunny on the shoulder and said, “You give me a good laugh, old friend. I appreciated your recent visits.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bunny shrugged off his shoulder but smiled at North, “I’ll add it to the collection.”

North was already turning to Sandy as he guffed, “You better!”

It was the most peaceful argument Jack had ever seen in his life. 

_So that’s what friendly banter is_ , Jack thought. It was hard to tell when they bickered as they fought Pitch whether the Easter Bunny was truly angry at North or not. With the whole ‘Christmas is more important than Easter’ fiasco, Jack wasn’t sure if Bunny was as mad at North as he was a Jack mostly all of the time. Somehow, Bunny and his arguments cut harder and meaner than everyone else's encounters with him. Was it Jack’s fault? The banter was fun, usually, but when it ended with Bunny hating him alittle bit more than he had before, it kinda sucked. Jack didn’t really _want_ to be hated by Bunny. But then again, he didn’t want to be hated by most creatures and that’s usually how it went. It really sucked when half of the time, Jack didn’t hate the spirits nearly as much as they hated him, expeccially Bunny. They weren’t friends, despite Twiner’s objections, and Jack hated him plenty in the heat of the argument- oh yeah, that was easy. Then, when they both calmed down, Jack would remember the arrogant grin Bunny flashed him during the battle, or the soft look of befuddlement on his face as Jack nipped his nose with a snowflake, or the loud laugh he let out during their snowball fight with the kids. Just- Jack knew he was a good guy, so why’d he have to go and make Jack feel so rotten all the time? 

_This is why I don’t hang out with spirits_ , Jack thought to Twiner, _kids are so much easier_. 

Twiner hummed and tried to redirect Jack’s spiraling thoughts to the exchange between Sandy and North. With a loud laugh and an excited jump from Sandy, North presented him with the fanciest bottle of eggnog Jack had ever seen. Wow. Tooth was practically fluttering in excitement, but she kept her body language stiff and politely interested. Everyone knew she was just as excited as the happy flutter of her wings displayed. While Sandy and North and a friendly exchange and Bunny and him bantered endlessly, Tooth and Roth seemed to hold a different relationship. One of immediate kinship and years of fighting side by side. They exchanged looks that Jack couldn’t read but he knew it told of immeasurable years of trust and friendship. They were the closest out of all the Guardians, Jack could tell. It wasn’t because they visited frequently or even talked all that much to each other, but their personalities seemed to match easily. While Bunny and North were two opposite ends, and Sandy was the mellow to North’s extreme, North and Tooth fit like puzzle pieces. It was casual and easy for Tooth to place a hand on his shoulder and natural for North to shoot her a mysterious look. Jack’s loneliness ached a little bit as he watched them, so he turned away and held the pillow Sandy gave him a little tighter. It was then that he noticed Bunny was looking at them too, not in the same way as Jack, but lonely and a little more wistful. Jack spared a look at Sandy, Sandy who could do no wrong in his life ever, and saw the little man smiling proudly at his friends, as if he knew something they didn't. 

Inside the box was an expertly carved blade that Tooth brandished with excitement and ease, as if it were a long lost limb, “You fixed it!”

“That I did,” Nicholas St. North puffed out his chest with pride, “She just needed a little polishing up.”

Tooth beamed at him, “And here I thought you forgot all those years ago.”

“I’ll admit, it was slow process, but your blade is now here!” North added with a teasing wink, “Your majesty.”

At the title, she rolled her eyes, but Jack perked up at the opportunity for a joke, “‘Your majesty’, huh? Should have guessed you were a queen, Tooth.”

He was teasing, but North laughed outright and said, “There is much you do not know of us, Jack. Bunny had egg army, Tooth was Queen- Good thing we have much time to tell you, yes?”

“Wait, really?” Jack said, “That’s so cool! Man, why didn’t anybody tell me? I should have been calling you ‘Your Highness’ instead of just ‘Tooth’.”

Tooth waved a hand, “Oh, it’s fine, Jack. I go by Tooth now. There’s no need.”

Jack shrugged, “If you say so,” and Baby Tooth flew over to him to chatter some more about Tooth’s newly revealed Queendom. Jack tried to follow her high chirps of enthusiasm but his concentration broke when the large shadow of North towered over him. He froze for a split second, just seeing the towering shadow that never meant good news, but forced himself to relax when North plopped a box in his lap. Baby Tooth chittered impatiently but settled in his hoodie and pressed her tiny hands on the side of his neck. It almost tickled. 

Untiring the bow was actually harder than it looked- Jack just assumed Bunny was bad at untying presents, but it seemed to be North’s little way of teasing them all- and he managed to unwrap it fully within a few minutes. Inside sat a swirling snow globe and Jack almost laughed at the irony. 

“Is not a beautifully decorated snow globe like yours,” North started, “but I thought it would be good for emergencies.”

Jack smiled up at North. Of course he would give something practical and thoughtful, “Thanks, North. This will be really useful.”

There was a slight growl/grumbling noise from Bunny’s side of the room, but Jack didn’t grace it with a response.

North placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before he spread open his arms and exclaimed, “And now for white elephant!” With exuberant energy, the man began to explain the rules of the game to a growing confused audience. 

“Ah, North,” Tooth piped up, “That’s not how you play white elephant.”

“What? Of course it is! You give out the gifts, the yeti read a clever Christmas story that involves ‘right’ ‘left’ and we see who gets what!”

Bunny gave him a dubious look, “That’s the right left game, mate. White Christmas the one where ye each get a gift and try an’ steal back the gift ye want.”

North waved a hand, “There is no stealing on Christmas! That is for Naughty children! This way it is all up to fate. Everyone! Presents in the middle!”

Jack shrugged and moved to sit in a circle on the rug with the other Guardians to close the distance between them for the ‘right, left’ game. As he reached into his sack to pull out the gag gifts, Jack froze, “Wait.”

The Guardian's turned to look at him and Jack fought down his embarrassment as he saw only one present from each Guardian in a circle on the floor. 

Bunny scoffed, “Don’t tell me you forgot, Frostbite.”

“No! I didn't forget,” Jack bristled in offense but shrank a bit when he realized he’d have to explain his mistake, “but I might have… gotten alittle carried away.”

“Carried away?”

Jack sighed and dug his hand into the sack to get the gag gifts, not wrapped because Jack didn’t really know how and it felt like too much to ask Jamie for some wrapping paper. The kid thought his gag gifts were hilarious though- a kinetic sand kit for Sandman, a jolly, fat, stupid looking Santa on the cover of a tin Christmas cookie box for North, some fake blood and toy gums for Tooth, and a blue fuzzy bunny ears headband for Bunny. It was perfect! But aparently he was supposed to bring only one gag gift. Oops. 

“Here you go, then,” Jack handed each gag gift out quickly, practically shoving it in the Guaridans hands. 

The look on Sandman’s face was priceless. In sandspeak he formed a laughing Jack and a question mark above his head and leveled Jack with an incredulous look. Roughly translating into ‘You think this is funny?’

“No, no, it’s actually pretty cool stuff, and you know, pretty fitting, I think-“ Jack laughed goodnaturedly as Sandman swatted at him and threw a bit of his own golden Sand in Jack’s face. 

Tooth, though, she was hilarious. Her reaction was pure befuddlement as she looked up at Jack and he shrugged, “I thought you would like the ‘pretty blood and gums’ like you told Sophie-“

She gasped as she remembered that mad dash at the Warren with a cute little girl the guardians had no idea how to handle. Tooth squawked in embarrassment, “Jack!” And the little skin part of her face blushed bright red in embarassement.

“What?” Jack said darting away from her hands that tried to grab him by the collar, “Your words not mine! You don’t like the pretty blood and gums?”

“These are _fake_ blood and gums.”

He blinked at her, “Well, yeah. Did you- did you want me to actually go out there and bottle up somebody’s blood and steal some poor old man’s gums?”

“No!” She sounded horrified, but North was barking out his laughter loud enough that the yeti peeked into the room to see what all the ruckus was about. When he handed North his gag gift, though, his smile mysteriously dissapeared. 

“Is this,” North looked up, “supposed to be me?”

Jack was stifling giggles behind his hand, “Well, yeah? You _are_ Santa Claus aren’t you? The Jolly cookie lover that you are.”

“I am not fat!” North cried out, casting a murderous look towards the laughing Santa with a belly of a watermelon shape. He kinda looked pregnant if Jack was being honest with the abnormally round balloon and the black buttons of his coat that looked about ready to burst. 

Bunny snarked, “What ‘bout you going on about your whole ‘feel it in your belly’, mate? Pretty sure you’ve got to have a big ol’ belly to be saying that.”

“Says you, Rabbit Man! You have no stomach! Where are your organs? Where do they fit in your scrawny little torso?” North shot back and Jack laughed, alittle disbleivingly. Knowing that they both were , in fact, making very good points. Everybody knew Santa was fat, and North was. Didn’t make him any less strong or good looking in that rugged bandit way of his. Honestly, his big stature sort of made him more intimidating. 

And Bunny. One thing that didn’t resemble a Kangaroo was his abnormally long and thin torso. It was broader than both Jack’s and Tooth’s, but with his bulky shoulders and powerful legs it looked a bit disproportionate. Or inhuman, he should say instead. It didn’t look unnatural on Bunny, the extra long torso and smooth white fur on his front, but there was something that made you go, ‘where did all of his organs fit?’ 

“Oi!” Bunny said, “I ‘ave all my organs! I just don’t need an extra pouch like you have.”

“Jack,” Tooth spoke over the two arguing guardians looking directly at him.

He turned his attention to the Tooth Fairy and grinned to indicate his attention to her. The raging rose to a volume that Jack could barely hear Tooth so he had to make out her mouthing the words, “Are North’s cookies sugar free?”

“Not a chance,” Jack mouthed back and laughed at her scowl. They were from an American store. Of course they weren’t sugar-free Christmas cookies with a jolly rosy cheeked St. Nick on the cover. 

It was Sandy who broke up the fight, per the norm, and the little man huffed, pointing an accusing finger towards Bunny and displaying an image of Bunny fist fighting all of the Guardians.

“Wot?” Bunny barked, “I do not!”

Sandy responded with the image of a scorecard with Jack, North, and Bunny on the top. North had one two tallies, Jack had three, and Bunny had five. It looked like Sandy was keeping track of the bickering fights they had in one evening. 

“Well it’s ‘cause I’ve got two bloody wankers on my tail now!” Bunny protested and gestured to both North and Jack. 

Jack raised a singular eyebrow at Bunny and didn’t hold back his grin at the glare Bunny shot him. He really was just so much fun to pester. Another accusatory finger was pointed towards North and this time Sandy showed North a picture of the Naughty list with North’s name scribbled at the top. 

“Naughty list!”

“Ouch,” Jack commented, “The tables have turned, huh? Apparently everything I knew is wrong. Santa Claus is on the naughty list. Sandman likes eggnog. Bunny isn’t a kangaroo. I mean, what’s next? The moon landing was fake?”

“It was,” Bunny piped up and this time Jack glared at him. There was _no way_ Jack was having this argument with an oversized Australian about whether or not the moon landing was fake. Bunny shrugged nonchalantly and Jack was miffed that he felt a hint of irritation. Normally no one could bug Jack as much as Jack could bug them, but the Easter Bunny had a famous record of doing so. Huh. Well played, rabbit. 

“Don’t you still have a gag gift for Bunny, Jack?” Tooth tried to steer them back on course and if Jack didn’t know any better, it was probably because Tooth was excited about revealing her own gag gift. 

Jack nodded, “Oh, right, how could I forget? It’s the best one.”

“Really, mate,” Bunny said in _the_ most deadpanned voice that Jack couldn’t help the peel of laughter that sputtered from his lips. 

“You don’t like it?” Jack pressed, wheezing a bit, “C’mon. Put them on. Put them on. They’re just your size.”

“Frost, I am not putting on a bloody pair of blue ears,” Bunny said. 

Jack gasped in shock, “ _Bunny_! Are you saying that you don’t like my gift? I give you not one, not two, but three gifts, and now you won’t even wear it?”

“Frost-“ he said warningly, but Jack kept going. He was getting somewhere he could tell. 

“I mean, I even paid money for it,” Jack pointed out, “You know how hard it is to save up money when your an invisible winter spirit? Really hard, let me tell you. Nobody wants to hire invisible spirits, apparently. But I managed to save up for the prize of those ears oh… maybe took me five years? People don’t throw away money anymore like they used to-“

“By the stars, Frost-“ Bunny sounded exasperated now.

Jack hummed to himself, “I don’t steal it, if that’s what you're thinking. People toss it out and if no one collects it I figure it shouldn’t go to waste. Couldn’t afford wrapping paper though. Shame. I saw some pretty sick Santa Claus-“ North scowled, “-wrapping paper in the store the other day. Too bad I spent it all on these ears though. The last of my savings, I think.”

Bunny cursed, “Bloody- Fine! Will ye shut your gob if I put on the damn thing?”

“Absolutely,” Jack swore, crossing his fingers behind his back. 

The blue fluffy ears were so cheap and fake it was laughable seeing them on Bunny’s head, next to his very much real ears that towered a few feet above the fake ones. The blue color was horribly off, settling on a light pastel blue instead of the grayish dark blue of Bunny’s fur. 

“Jack, Jack,” North hissed to him and handed him a small box, “Open this- ah-ah Bunny! Do not take the ears off!”

Without too much hesitation, Jack unwrapped the gift and gasped louder than he thought possible, “A camera?” Jack stood with his excitement, “A real one?”

“Da, real one. It captures spirits' appearances too, so be careful.”

“Now hold on a mo-“

Jack ran his fingers over the beautifully smooth rim of the lenses in awe, “Wow. This- this is awesome. You’re telling me that _this_ is your gag gift?”

North shrugged, “Sandy’s idea. He heard you wished for a camera and asked for my help to make it true. Was not hard to assemble small trinket.”

“Great! We’re moving on now. How about time for my pressie-“ Bunny started to pull the ears from his head and every other guardians hollered at him to stop. Even Tooth seemed set on prolonging Bunny’s torture. His hands froze on the ears and his eyes grew wide as if he weren't expecting the full volume of each Guardian to incoherently scream akin to a battle cry over a pair of blue ears. 

“Not so fast!” Jack whooped a little bit in excitement and brought the camera up to his face. 

Bunny growled, “Don’ you dare-“

_Click_! “Too late!” Jack took multiple, just in case one was blurry. Good thing he knew how to semi work one and held down the right button. The flash had gone off, temporarily blinding Bunny and giving him some time to escape with his life. 

“Frost!” 

Jack fluttered just out of reach, skipping on the wind and bouncing up to the rafters. As his feet perched on the wooden beams, frost spread from his toes and curled excitedly around the old wood. He turned the camera towards the rafters, adjusting the lens to get the perfect quality for a picture of his frost. Narrowing his focus down to the camera lens, he barely heard Bunny’s holler of, “Get down here!”

Eventually though, all the Guardians were trying to coax him down. Flashing them and grin and the camera flash, Jack took a picture of all of the Guardians- Bunny glaring up at Jack (bunny ears gone) looking ridiculously pissed, Tooth in the middle of beconning Jack down with the wave of her hand, Sandy with his arms extended as if he were in the middle of waving his hands over his head like stranded seafarer, and North was smiling with his finger pointed towards Jack in the middle of a tease and scold that Jack had missed amidst the chaos of it all. 

He flipped down, uses his staff like a sinking anchor in the sea as he touched down to the ground. 

“What I say about hiding in rafters, hmm?” North scolded him, but Jack just shrugged and slouched in his seat and looked down to fiddle with the camera again. He had gotten his hands on a few before but- none of them could ‘see’ him before. 

The first one was a Polaroid camera, a soft lemon color that matched its case. Some kid had gotten it for Christmas and hated it. Thrown it out. Jack figured if she didn’t want it then maybe Jack could play around with it. It was fun at first, taking pictures of anything and everything he could. The trees. The sun peaking through the clouds. A small caterpillar he found on a leaf. A woodpecker he befriended. The leaves. He laughed in delight and curiosly opened the little thing to see how many more pictures he could take and found one film left. _Better make it count,_ he had thought and flipped the camera over and flashed it his biggest smile. People always complained about their appearance in cameras and who knew, maybe cameras really did something wonky to your face. Truly, however, Jack just wanted to see if he would even show up on the camera. Maybe if he had solid proof he could, he didn’t know, show it to people? Maybe this picture would prove to him that he wasn’t just some expression made up, something crafted in the mind of some imaginative soul and created only for the sake of spreading frost and causing mischief. Maybe he was real. 

He wasn’t. 

Jack frowned at the camera and turned it around, wondering if the same thing would happen in this one. This camera didn’t print out the picture but instantaneously provided a mini digital version on the small screen- proving that it really did capture spirits. There the Guardians were, forever captured on some small device. No amount of amnesia or fear would erase them from this little screen, and Jack found comfort in that. Too bad he didn’t have the confidence to take his own picture. 

_I think it will really work this time!_ Twiner chirped, trying to convince Jack to try it out. 

He didn’t and gently put the camera down. 

“Now my gift isn’t as exciting-“ Tooth started, “but I think it is _very_ important.”

A loud, dramatic noise came from Bunny as he groaned and covered his face with his hands, “If I get one more goddamn toothbrush-“

“You don’t brush!” Tooth cried, “Bunny, you need-“ 

Bunny argued, “No, I don’t. My biology is different from yours. How many times-“ 

“Friends, please,” North interrupted, “Sandy is still keeping score.” 

Everyone glanced over to the Sandman and Jack took the opportunity to snap a picture of their golden names hovering over tally marks of ‘naughtiness’ as he laughed. Tooth, however, wasn’t having any of it. 

She whirled around, pointing an accusatory finger in North’s direction, “And you! You’re the worst of them all!”

North sputtered, “I brush! And floss!”

Here Tooth laughed and patted his cheek in that patronizing way of hers, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not talking about that. No amount of brushing or flossing can help your diet. The sugar is going to rot away all your teeth! You had a cavity before!”

“A cavity, North?” Jack gasped, “No.”

“One time! Once!” North cried, “ I have been very diligent in- ack!”

Finding the opportune moment to interrupt him, Tooth pried open North’s jaw to inspect his teeth. It seemed they were all victims of Tooth’s dentistry inspections. Taking advantage of this momentous occasion, Jack couldn’t help but snap a picture of it. 

“Why can’t you all be more like Jack?” Tooth jerked his teeth this way and that in an almost careless manner that most dentists exhibited, “Is that a coronal cavity?”

“Ack!”

Bunny and Sandy were laughing, enjoying Tooth’s rambunctious inspection of North’s teeth so long as they weren’t the victim. As Jack checked the image on the camera he very carefully avoided mentioning that he didn’t brush his teeth. Fun fact. Nearly starving, remember? Jack had scarce belongings let alone a tooth brush and a routine sleep schedule. He didn’t brush when he woke up or before he slept and he rarely slept in the first place. Maybe eating all that snow made his teeth ‘sparkle like freshly fallen snow’. He had gone a few weeks without sleeping after Jack curled up next to his fallen friend in exhaustion, in grief. Winter after that was fairly tame and gave him a bit of that extra strength that came with cold fronts and snow days. There was no more time for grief and exhaustion and sleep, not with all this fun around! Jack vowed never to forget Oak and he didn’t need to vow to never stop feeling that stabbing ache in his chest that felt as hollow as his now empty trunk. But... Oak would have wanted him back on his feet, as cheesy as that sounded. The guy practically preached self recovery being an unprofessional therapist and baggage deposit. He just knew that Oak would have loved the games he and kids played, the snow days he caused, the pranks he played. 

“That’s it!” Jack said, exclaiming it mostly to the wind, Twiner, and himself, but the Guardians all turned to him, North glancing over as best he could with Tooth’s firm fingers holding his head in place. His cheeks frosted over in embarrassment. It was hard to shake the habit of three hundred years of talking to himself and remember that people could actually see him or even cared about what he had to say, but he didn’t let their sudden questioning gazes deter him from answering. Playing things off was a bit of his speciality. 

_Yeah, right,_ Twiner commented and Jack mentally shoved him. 

“I just had the best thought-” Jack started, holding the camera with barely lidded joy, “With the camera, I mean, not about teeth, sorry Tooth. But, I can totally use this to take pictures of my believers! Man, Jamie and the gang will love it. Hopefully this thing has enough memory for all of the goofy pictures he’ll probably take. You know Monty? Real timid kid, but he actually pulls out the best jokes I’ve ever heard. Goofy kid. He steals his friends' phones all the time and takes funny pictures on them.” 

“Stealing phones, hm?” North asked, massaging his assaulted jaw that was now free. 

Jack said, “Not anything to warrant the naughty list, North. There’s no rules against harmless pranks. Thought you kept tabs on that sort of thing.”

Bunny frowned and gestured to the camera, “Mate, I thought that camera’s part of the right left game, ain’t it?”

“Don’t ya-?” Immediately fours heads swiveled around to pin Bunny with such murderous looks and he physically choked on his next words. Of course, it flew right over Jack’s head, and he deflated with the stupid feeling of getting caught caring too much about a stupid thing, “Right. Of course. I’m just- playing around with it, you know.”

Bunny's ears flicked down a centimeter, and he clasped his hands together, “Right, well, play around with it all you want. I’m sure your four gag gifts are enough for this ol’ game. No need ta toss it back in the pile after ye already used it. ”

“Wait,”Jack straightened and looked at the other Guardians, “I can keep it?”

His voice was embarrassingly hopeful, but in that small moment of vulnerability, the Guardians didn’t let him down in the slightest. 

“Of course you can, Jack,” Tooth said, “I think we all want you to have it. Courtesy of Sandy and North, of course, who it’s from.”

Sandy shot him two big thumbs up, grinning with the knowing look of someone who was a bit of a trickster themselves. North’s approval was loud and hearty just as the man was. Jack ducked his head, trying to hide his joyful smile and the bubbling feeling of warmth that he had missed for so long. By the moon, was this longest conversation or hang out he’s ever had? Just- talking. They fought and scolded and, granted, Jack was a little upset at them throughout the evening, but he never remembers such _warmth_ accompanying the feeling of anger. He heard about it; the siblings who fondly argued and then not so fondly fought. The shifting tides of love and laughter and anger and judgement. Jack saw it all. He studied it for years, seeing both the good and the bad and not caring about the bad as long as it was _something_. Truly, he never thought he would experience a fraction of what that felt like, but here he was. 

_And you said they weren’t even your friends earlier,_ Twiner hummed, satisfied with himself and the turn out. 

_Yeah, yeah,_ Jack rolled his eyes and flicked his staff up to have the crooked curve cup the back of his neck. 

They decided to play the right left game after all but just added Jack’s into the circle. North’s gag gift was revealed to Jack, a Christmas candle smelling of potent cookies- Jack would hate that thing and probably end up eating it. Sandy gave Tooth some melatonin capsules of his as if he were telling them all to get more sleep, and Bunny offered his gag gift to North. 

“Five bucks says it’s an egg thing,”Jack called out and Bunny shot him a glare.

Bunny snarked, “Oh, you’re gonna want _this_ egg, mate. Nobody can resist some of my chocky.”

This was when everyone froze and turned to him, North clutching the gift like it was something precious, “There is _your_ chocolate in here, Bunny?”

Suddenly, the confident rabbit looked uncertain and a hint embarrassed as he cupped the back of his neck and made his way back to his seat, “Well, some of me rejects. Not the good stuff. Don’t get yer hopes up.”

Tooth said, sounded a bit eager, “You haven't given us any of your chocolate in years, Bunny. We all thought you were going on strike.” 

To that, Bunny gave a noncommittal shrug. He probably was going on strike. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jack held a hand up, “Tooth, didn’t you just scold North over eating candy? Don’t tell me you actually _like_ chocolate.”

“No! Of course not,” Tooth ojected, “I don’t eat candy.”

Jack sighed and nodded. Man that would be _bizarre_ if he learned Tooth actually liked the stuff. Imagine. The Guardian of Teeth, practically as obsessed with teeth as Willy Wonka’s dad was, liking chocolate. 

“But Bunny’s chocolate is different,” Tooth said dismissively. Even Sandy nodded, looking excited, and clapped his hands together, “He invented it.”

Jack’s head swiveled around in disbelief, and Bunny seemed sheepish as he shrugged, “Sugar free. I grow something much sweeter than sugar cane and much better for ya.”

Jack murmured, “There’s so much to unpack here.” 

They all laughed at him good naturedly and didn’t bother to actually explain anything to his growing confusion. Since Jack didn’t mind who got his gag gifts (the presentation was the most important thing and now it was over), they decided to include his four gifts with the three others. Jack was holding the cursed candle that went along with the camera, Sandman was holding a fancy toothbrush and his kinetic sand, Tooth was holding her blood and gums and melatonin, North was holding his Fat Santa cookies and Bunny’s chocolate, and Bunny was simply holding his blue fluffy bunny ears since the numbers were uneven. North called over a yeti, Phill, to read the script and Jack looked exasperated. He wasn’t fluent in yetish!

“Gra taarh bego Chrutenca _rarhg_ -“ The guardians all tossed their presents right while Jack floundered to follow.

“Right?” Jack asked, a little helplessly. If he could figure out what word translated into the English word ‘right’ then maybe Jack would have some hope in this game. 

The yeti, halfway in between a sentence grumbled and shook his head, “ _Garhg_!”

The Guardians passed it left. Welp. Jack followed their lead and decided to focus more on what presents they were passing through his hands than the story of the Yeti that was flying right over his head. As soon as the chocolate reached anyone, they would light up in barely contained hope before they would wallow in despair when it was ripped from their hands. 

“No!” Tooth cried when Sandy took the chocolate and North placed the Santa cookies in her lap. Bunny just seemed to be happy that he wasn’t holding the bunny ears any longer, content with his bag of kinetic sand and melatonin. At one point the chocolate was in Jack’s possession, and it became suddenly apparent to Bunny that the Yetish story was almost over. 

“Wait!”Bunny hissed as Jack held the chocolate (and Fat Santa cookies) and Bunny held the bunny ears once again, “You can’t have that!”

Jack narrowed his eyebrows at Bunny in offense but shot back with a smile, “Why not? Scared I’ll hate it?”

“Rarhg,” To his surprise, this seemed to panic Bunny even further, but it was short-lived as the chocolate passed to North and the bunny ears came into Jack’s possession. His smug look lasted for about a second as Phill said, “ _Garhg_ ,” and the bunny ears popped back into the rabbits lap and the chocolate back into Jack’s.

This torturous game seemed to go on for awhile, Jack glowing in triumph every time he received the chocolate and Bunny’s ears drooping in dread only for Jack to wince at receiving the bunny ears and for Bunny to smirk at him. 

“Shoot!” Jack hissed when yet again, the bunny ears, the last gag gift he could ever want, was in his hands. It was so close! There had been a few _rarhgs_ in a row, enough that Jack was sure the chain wouldn’t come back to him, but then the same amount of _garghs_ were said. 

Bunny was laughing when Jack said, “So what’s so bad about your chocolate that you don’t want me to have it anyway?”

Bunny retorted back, “What’s so bad about having bunny ears, mate?”

Thinking the story wasn’t over, Jack looked expectedly up at Phill who occasionally stopped reading when the Guardian's were socializing too much, “Phill, would you do the honors?”

To his absolute horror, Phill looked blankly at him, “Oh no,” and shrugged his shoulders, “no way. It’s _over_?” showing Jack the script as if to say, ‘it’s all done’.

Now nothing could stop Bunny from doubling over in laughter, even pointing a finger at Jack as the other one clutched his stomach, “You’ve got the ears now! You’ve gotta wear ‘em, Frost. It’s only fair!”

“No,” Jack crossed his arms, “No way.”

“Bloody way!” Bunny crowed, “You forced ‘em top of my head and took a ruddy photo, you did. Now ya have ta put ‘em on and let me take a pic of ya!”

“Yes, yes! Bunny has a point,” North bellowed, “Is only fair for those who wield the bunny ears!”

Jack, defeated, put on the damn ears but not without the fiercest scowl he could manage. This was not what he had envisioned when he got the stupid things from the dollar store. 

With the slyest grin he’s ever seen, Bunny said, “Daw, they match your eyes, Frost. Ye looks like a little blue bunny.”

At that, Jack snorted a bit and said sarcastically , “A blue bunny, huh? You’re a down right _comedian_ , Cottantail.”

“Too right I am,” Bunny said and the flash of the camera startled him so badly that he couldn’t think of a witty response. 

He blinked rapidly to dispel the after images on his eyelids and jerked the ears off his head. Snatching the camera away from Bunny startled the guardian momentarily before he tried to grab after it, “Don’t ye dare delete it!”

Jack said nothing as he waited for the image to appear, studying it closing and blinking to get rid of the black spots in his vision. There. He saw himself. Mouth open, in the middle of snarking back to Bunny with those ridiculous ears on top of his head. It was odd to think the first picture he had ever taken of himself was one so ridiculous, but it had Jack’s hard expression softening into relief. 

“Wasn’t going to,” Jack finally responded lightly. 

The other Guardians seemed to sigh in relief too at the notion that there wasn’t going to be another fight between the two. They each got their gifts. Tooth getting the chocolate she wanted but not without the extremely unhealthy and cheap Santa cookies. North with the tooth brush that he glared at as if it were the source of all his problems and kinetic sand. Sandy got the lone cookie candle which he hummed happily about and Bunny got the melatonin that he didn’t seem too unhappy about and the fake blood and gums which he cringed at. 

Jack was about to open his mouth to suggest that the Guardians really didn’t have to keep his cheap gifts if they didn’t want to when the wind burst through the window and pushed a large gust of winter air into the heated workshop.

“Crickey!” Bunny cursed at the cold blast that ruffled his fur and North frowned at the sudden intrusion. The wind breaking down his wards and windows probably wasn’t a regular occurrence before Jack came along. 

In a second, he stood at the frantic and whipping wind. Accompanying her was a large, brown magnolia leaf, probably chosen for its strength to withstand an angry wind, that flickered to his feet, scraping against the wooden floor with an audible sound. 

_Jack!_ The leaf crowed, _the ice! The ice! It broke! It’s breaking! A kid_ -

“What?!” Jack exclaimed, anxiety pouring through his limbs and solidifying in his lungs. 

“What’s going on?”

The Guardians questioned their alarm but Jack didn't waste another second before he propelled himself out of the room, away from the warmth and concerned voices, and towards the cold and fear. 

“Jack!”

He ignored their calls, the anxious flutter of Tooth’s wings that were drowned out and pushed back with the fierce wind. There was no time to explain, to stop. Not when he could practically hear the creaking, breaking, cracking, splashing ice and the body it pulled down with it. He was propelled south, down and down and down towards the Alaskan borders. 

_Shit_ , Jack cursed and squinted through the racing snow that pelted his eyes, _Who’s stupid enough to-_

_There!_ The leaf called after him, dancing in the wake of his wind and flickering in front of Jack to lead the way. It was a river he was familiar with, the Talkeetna River, one he made sure to freeze over solidly every year for it’s deceptive nature. Throughout the years, this river had been a pain in the ass multiple times. It appeared to be frozen, layered in a thick sheet of snow, but without even touching it, Jack could feel the the moan and groan of the old ice that wished to break from its surface barrier. 

Sitting on the surface, snow pants slick with the dampness of snow and fingertips red and blistering from reaching down into the frigid crack in the ice, there was a girl, screaming against the wind to no avail, “Help!”

It was an awful noise. Torn from her throat and coated in thick panic and fear, “Somebody help!” 

It was all Jack needed to hear the fear in her voice to drive down, plunging through the water that was so cold it slapped Jack Frost, the bringer of winter. Instinctively, he gasped, sucking in nothing but the slicing water and panicked. His staff was hooked onto the ice, anchored there by his thick ice, but the current shoved him to the side so forcefully that Jack’s body thudded against the under belly of the ice and nearly ripped his grip off his staff. Twiner’s panic mirrored his own but it was his idea to freeze his hand to his staff that kept Jack from spiraling in fear. Jack held his breath against the tide that pushed and shoved against his lungs. 

_I can’t see him!_ Jack swiveled around to peer through the blackness and found nothing. Only the blue light from his staff illuminated his surroundings, _He’s not here!_

_Jack, don’t!_

Swallowing the best he could while holding his breath, Jack repositioned his hold on his staff and yanked. Immediately they spiraled downwards, detached from the open crack in the ice and spinning down the frozen river that wasn’t so frozen after all. As the water shoved him around, Jack spun his staff around wildly, trying to find anything that resembled a body. The blue light glowed and he shot forwards at a speed nearly faster that the river with the help of the wind that was feeding into the river the best way she knew how. Jack lungs burned and his eyes blurred though whether it was from his disorienting surroundings or from oxygen loss, he didn’t know. 

_Jack! There!_ Twiner called and forced Jack’s hand around to point at the twisting body of a young male. He was still alive, flailing his hands around in a way that Jack had before he died. Bubbles streamed out of his mouth so fast that the current seemed to suck them out. Reaching a desperate hand out, Jack tried to grasp his arm and found that it went straight through. 

_No!_ Jack screamed internally, his mind growing incosoulably panicked with the thought of yet another death by the cold, the water, the ice, _him_. Always freeze over the lake in December. Always! He’s so _stupid_ \- 

Twiner cut him off with, _Look! He’s unconcious!_

The eyes of the boy were lidded and full of the only emotion that can’t be described as the one felt before death. The blue of Jack’s staff reflecting in them was the last he saw as they slipped closed and a final bubble was sucked out of his lips, _No!_

Now, admits his terror, Jack gripped his arm and realized it was actually touching. Relief almost had him sighing, but he caught the tempted breath in his cheeks and focused on the boy. He could only touch humans when they were asleep. Although Sophie didn’t believe in him, Jack was able to hold her and bring her to her home. Gripping the boy tightly around his shoulders, Jack used all of his remaining strength and oxygen to push against the current and rockoche upwards. Before, when he was human, a young and frail and starving thing, he banged and slammed against the ice and it remained unyielding under his touch. Now, Jack was no longer human and he was no longer subject to the demands of winter. His hand slammed against the ice and through his own haggard ice blast, the surface of the frozen river burst and exploded with a powerful crack Jack was almost proud of. He didn’t waste a second to regain his breath, gasping and blinking against the black dots in his vision before he crumpled on the snowy bank and set the boy down. Still gasping and disoriented, Jack clumsily started pumping his hands on his chest. The girl was screaming, yelling, running towards him as she collapsed on her knees close to the boy. 

“Trevor! Trevor,” She grabbed his blue face in his hands, “Oh my god. Oh my god, he’s not breathing, he- what-“

“It’s going to be okay-“ _Samantha_ , the magnolia leaf provided, “Samantha. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be fine.”

Jack didn’t really think as he grabbed her hands and forced them away from Trevor, he didn’t see her shocked gaze fall on him as if she had never seen him there before, and he didn’t stop giving Trevor CPR, willing the water to force its way out of his lungs. Water spurted from Trevor’s mouth and Jack had the good sense to turn him on his side so he didn’t choke on the water Jack worked so hard to get him out of. 

Finally, Jack sagged against the snow on his knees and tried to tell the wind to go everywhere _but_ around these two shivering blue kids. 

“You... you-“ Samantha was clutching Trevor tightly, not caring if his drenched self was getting her own clothes wet, and staring at Jack with wide, scared eyes, “How-?”

Jerking with the knowledge that these teenagers could see him, Jack wasted no time saying, “What the hell were you doing crossing the river?”

She flinched and curled tighter around Trevor, “I couldn’t- we didn’t- We were just being stupid, okay? We always skate near the river and we thought-“

“No,” Jack snapped, “No, you didn’t think. People die like that. Trevor almost died.”

When he saw her crumpling face, Jack winced and stood, hating the curling feeling in his chest of anxiety and hurt and fear for himself and these kids who deserved to have fun in the snow and ice but _not like this._

“I’m sorry,” Jack said and offered her a hand, “C’mon we have to get Trevor to the hospital, alright? He could get hypothermia or frostbite if we stay here.”

She looked at him hesitantly and Jack was tempted to shake both of her shoulders to force her to listen to him. Instead he gave her the kindest smile he could muster and said, “C’mon. I promise I’m here to help.” 

Thankfully, she tooth his hand, and Jack only let go of it to turn towards the river. He brought his staff up in the air, collecting all of the ferocious winter like a beacon with his staff and slamming it down on the river bank. In a matter of seconds, winter energy crackled over the surface of the ice and closed up any splintering cracks or gaping holes. The wind kindly abided his wishes and wrapped the calmest current she could find around Samantha and Trevor. Tapping his staff twice more on the ice just to be certain, Jack spun around scooped up Trevor into his hold. Normally, Jack found adults and near adults to be awkward to carry with his small frame (the only adults he carried were those of the deceased, buried deep in avalanches of snow and he would carry them to a spot their family and the police search could find them) but he didn’t seem to have a problem carrying Trevor despite the boys bulky frame. Maybe he was just getting stronger? Jack mentally shrugged it off as unimportant as he turned towards the nearest town under the kind, trembling leaf’s instruction. 

“Is the town far?” Jack turned to Samantha, who was gripping the back of his sweatshirt like a lifeline. 

Trembling, she shook her head ‘no’ and Jack sighed in relief, “It will be okay.”

“Okay,” She whispered and only the wind brushing the sound into his ear helped him hear the soft sound. 

By the time they made it to the warm street lamps and the doors that swallowed them in the warmth of air conditioning, Trevor’s lips and the tips of his fingers were blue. Samantha was leaning on him entirely and shivering so violently that Jack cursed his naturally cold demeanor every five seconds. 

“I’m going to set Trevor down on his bench okay?”Jack asked, but he moved to set the teenager down before her confirmation.

“Wait,” Samantha mumbled.

Jack gently forced her to sit down, “You have to tell them what happened, okay? They can’t see me, so you have to do it.”

She shuddered as the warm air battled the low temperature of her body, “Don’t- Don’t- leave-ve.”

“I won’t,” Jack reassured and crouched on a coffee table in front of them, keeping an eye on the rising and falling of Trevors chest and letting himself be in the blurry vision of Samantha. The waiting room of the small town hospital was practically deserted, even the receptionist was nowhere to be found. It was a small town in Alaska, sure, but there had to be _somebody_ that could help. Her eyes started drooping with drowsiness and Jack jerked up, “Samantha!”

She made a small noise in confirmation, and Jack glanced around the waiting room that was currently holding no people, “Stay awake, Samantha, just hold on- goddammit, where are they?”

Jack hopped away, and the girl didn’t even protest. He jerked the door open, letting an angry icy blast startle a receptionist with her back turned to the waiting room. She frowned and stood, heading for the door with a disgruntled, exhausted look on her face. Just as she was about to close the door, Jack sent a hard shove to the door to push it back open. Startled and a little more than frustrated, the woman pushed back.

“Just look in the waiting room, you idiot!” Jack iced the door knob, and it trickled up her arm and soaked her sweater, “What the-“ 

As she paused to look at the frost creeping up her arm, she glanced into the waiting room and jerked up with a shout, “Oh!”

Jack sagged against the door frame, “Thank goodness.”

Immediately the room was a flurry of concern and chaos as Trevor and Samantha were ushered into the hospital's care and treated for hypothermia. Jack stuck around long enough to see Trevor’s heart monitor beeping steadily and Samantha’s fingers wrapped in warm cloth, before he flew away. 

He had more rivers to freeze. 

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


**990 CYCL BMiM**

**E. Aster Bunnymund age: 10 CYCL, 4 solannos, and 1 phase**

  
  
  


There was a Pooka at Aster’s school. Cacue. He played in the meadow like any other kit and sat attentively in the burrow when the teacher passed out magical scrolls and told them to try to write their own enchanted words. The Pookan kit was just like any other kit Aster had seen, but all he had to do was close his eyes and he would see something different. 

Cacue was angry. His light at his core didn’t seem that way at first- red and fiery in his center. Aster didn’t know why the light grew more ferocious and wilder everyday. He didn’t know why Cacue had six siblings. He didn’t know why Cacue’s Buca never guarded the school burrow like all of the other parents that volunteered, like all of different Buca’s for his six other siblings’ did. Aster tried to ignore it, but it was just so distracting! During his lessons of spellbinding and history, that bright red glare would catch Aster’s eye and tear him away from his focus. More often than not, Aster found himself accidentally catching Cacue’s eyes before he would turn away, embarrassed. It wasn’t always so bright, or so angry, but it was new. Aster had never seen a light like it before, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Naturally the curious color caught his attention effortlessly.

“Look what I found!” One of his classmates hopped up to Aster and grinned, showing him a pretty flower. The hiding game that Aster created was still played in the meadow, though it frequently dissolved into chase and mindless laughter and games. 

Aster smiled, “That’s so pretty! Do you want me to hide it for another kit to find?”

They nodded and Aster grinned at his collection of treasures the other kits had offered him to hide. Some of them hid things on their own and sometimes Aster would find their hidden treasures. Once, Aster even found Cacue’s treasure. It was a yellow gem, half buried in the dirt that Aster spotted and started to dig out. He grinned in triumph and polished off the gem to go hide it somewhere else when he heard quiet giggling from the bushes. 

Sniffing, Aster stepped in the direction the sound came from and parted the bushes to see Cacue hiding in them. When he saw Aster had found him, Cacue smirked him and his red light crackled in greeting, “You found my treasure.”

“Oh,” Aster smiled, “You found the yellow gem first?”

Cacue said proudly, “Yup! It’s better than that small grey stone you found.” 

“I guess,” Aster tilted his head, “It depends on how you look at it.”

Personally, Aster loved the grey stone he found. It was rough and gritty and he liked rubbing the pads of his fingers against it and polishing it, “Just admit I found something better than you did!”

It was always like that with Cacue. The small subconscious glances Aster sent him must have triggered some sort of competition in them, and Aster found that he didn’t mind it as much as he initially thought. Everytime Cacue would challenge him or egg him on with his crackling light, Aster found his own light flaring up inside him as if it were trying to outshine Cacue’s glow. 

And it did. 

Cacue’s glow was harsh and hard to ignore, but Hani and his, they were brighter. Aster sat next to his brother and closed his eyes to see the soft, yet bright light that their white cores gave off. He shuffled closer to his brother and gently gripped his arm. Hani looked over at him, the glow reflecting in his green eyes, and beamed, “Do you like my drawing, Aster?” 

Dutifully, Aster opened his eyes and studied his drawing. The paints on the scroll were half finished but the completed part was bright and colorful, just the way he liked it, “It’s not finished.”

“I’m tired,” Hani said, “Can you finish for me? Then it will be both of our drawings!” 

“You’re just tired because you walked with Doa this morning instead of running with me!” Aster pulled the drawing closer to him nevertheless and added, “I think I’ll like your side of the drawing better though.”

Every morning, Aster practiced running through time. He was getting faster and faster, he just knew it! It was convenient since Hani and Aster had to get up early to walk to the school burrow that was located in the main meadow. Doa or Buca would accompany them and then wait outside with the other parent volunteers. Hani usually started off just walking with Buca or Doa, but they would nudge him when Aster ran to far and tell him to catch up. 

“It is dangerous for a kit to be alone,” Buca would say to Hani, and Hani would grumble as much as he possibly could before trotting up to Aster with a, “Aster! Wait up!” 

On other mornings, Doa would nudge his shoulder and say, “Get up there! A healthy kit needs exercise!” And Hani would grumble, “Not this early!” but catch up to Aster regardless. 

Hani never was as fast as Aster, but he had to be just _almost_ to make sure that Aster was never alone.

Balancing on a single hand, body twisted in a motion that was initially unnatural, Aster said, “Hani, move your leg a little up.”

Hani’s face looked funny all tense and strained and upside down like that. He grunted, “It’s fine.”

They were practicing their daily training. As kits they learned to perfect the basic forms of warfare even if they weren’t planning on enlisting in the war. Hani wasn’t, but it was all Aster could ever think about. When the teacher told them to rest, Aster stayed in formation just a little bit longer to engrave the move into his mind. As they paced their progression, Aster urged himself faster and faster than the other kits. He learned the moves faster, practiced them harder, perfected them longer than any of the other kits. Including Hani. But that was okay. Hani didn’t want to enlist in the war.

“Khani,” The instructor came over and tilted Hani’s leg an inch higher with her staff, “A little higher.”

Once the teacher turned away, Aster fought back giggles, and Hani’s hiss was weak, “I hate you.”

Aster _loved_ the mornings. Hani did not. 

Hani liked the afternoons better. When the suns were bright on their shoulders and the physical exercise was done. After lunch, Hani straightened with a new energy and Aster liked to watch his grumpy light slowly flare back to life and glow brighter with the two suns in the sky. Aster’s light tended to fade out as the day stretched on which was why he liked getting the important stuff done in the morning: running, training, drawing. It seemed like Hani did the opposite and was revving himself up for the best and most important parts of his own day- growth magic. They each were good at it. It was hard to be bad at growth magic, but while Hani’s magic was vibrant and excited as a waterfall and the fierce swish of a Busach tail, Aster’s was tentative, like the first cracks in an egg or the soft springy tuff of cotan that slowly shed off the seed. 

They sat outside in a field today, hands in the dirt and feet crossed onto their thighs. Aster shifted to let the blood flow his numb foot and rested it on the grass. A small Itchea bug started at the movement and flickered into the air for a moment before settling on Aster’s trousers, unaware that he was not the blade of grass the bug seemed to think he was. Aster laughed softly and studied the bug, its small beaded black eyes that shone with the light of two suns reflecting on it, and the tall ears on the top of its head. They were slightly different from Aster’s own shape and looked stiffer and taller due to their tendency to use their ears to propel them in the air. Their small body was long and as thin as the blades of grass they dwelled in. It almost seemed as if they were made from the grass itself with their green tint.

“Aster,” Hani bumped his knee, and Itchea bug flew away, “Pay attention.”

“I was,” Aster automatically said back, though he did look up at the instructor. 

The teacher, a Pooka of carmel brown fur and a white speckled nose and front instructed them to encourage a plant to grow with their magic, “Feel it in the tips of your fingers and let the small bud grow into a strong plant.”

A loud voice called out, “I can’t do it.”

She looked down at the kit that spoke up and smiled, “Yes, you can. All of you can use growth magic because all of you are connected to Lepus.”

“What’s Lepus?” One kit piped up. 

“Lepus is here, dummy!” Another one answered.

The teacher said, “Don’t be rude. Yes, Lepus is ‘here’, it is our planet. It is what we live on. But, it is much more.”

They all sat in a circle around her as the instructor sat with a blue scroll resting on her folded knees. Hani and Aster sat further from the front, but it was easy to see when the scroll unrolled and light scattered from it’s pages. The reflected light danced on the two sun’s rays and created images for the kits to see; a galaxy of blue and dots of glowing light hovering just over their heads. 

“Lepus was once a constellation,” White lines connected the dots of the stars to form a constellation of a Pookan kit, “A constellation that could never stay still for long and was always traveling the galaxy in search of happiness and mischief. Just like you young’s kits are, she could never stay still for too long.”

The constellation came to life in the sky and danced around balls of star dust and batted at them with her small paws. She leaped over solar systems and even stopped to play with a few blue suns and asteroids floating by. Each transfixed kit laughed, delighted, and gazed up at the story with the stars reflecting in their eyes. 

“But Lepus was being hunted,” Another constellation formed of jaws snapping at Lepus’ tail and startling the young playful thing, “by cruel dogs who saw death as a game and Lepus as a meal.”

Aster gasped as the violent constellation started chasing Lepus, right on her tail, “But Lepus was clever. Pretending to be frightened, Lepus ran from the hunting dogs until day was night and night was day. Lepus hid under asteroid belts and disguised herself in suns’ shadows. The hunting dogs thought Lepus a coward and a frightened animal of prey, but Lepus proved she was not prey, nor a coward, for as she ran and ran, Lepus grew and grew. They had been chasing Lepus for so long, that Lepus grew up to be strong and the dogs grew weak from chase.”

The constellation of the small kit grew to an adult sized Pooka as she ran through the galaxy. Her laughter echoed in the stars and bounced off planets and their moons, “With ears as tall as the dogs themselves and strong, fast legs, Lepus could hear the dogs whenever they tried to sneak up on her and she could run fast enough that she leaped through time and galaxies at will. One day, Lepus ran so fast and so strong that the hunting dogs lost her and gave up.”

Lepus sat up, seeming surprised at her own feat and glanced behind her as if she expected the dogs to barrel forwards at anytime. But the dogs had faded away and their constellation had split apart its stars in exhaustion, “Once Lepus had defeated them, she realized that she did not know what to do. She could not play and run anymore for all her energy and time was spent evading the hounds. So, Lepus rested. Lepus found two warm suns to keep her company and to guard her and found a lone asteroid to lay upon. In well deserved sleep, Lepus created a barrier around herself, a burrow she called it, and the world formed around her sleeping form. 

Lepus rested on the asteroid, curled around it like it was a bed, and tucked her head into her arms. As she rested, gravity pulled Lepus in a steady cycle around the two suns. One sun rotated around the other and Lepus rotated a further distance around that sun, warmed by the two yellow suns light. Lepus peeked her head up to gaze at the suns sometimes and Aster could physically see the loneliness that plagued their creator. 

“Seeing the two suns dance around each other, Lepus realized she was lonely and decided to create beings in her own image: Pooka. Lepus was the First Pooka and the creator of our planet and us.”

Then, an egg-like shape crystallized over the constellation in a fragile effort for protection. Another thicker layer of rock and magma formed over the egg shape and smoothed out it’s oval shape into a circle. Layer after layer, the Pooka rested, but she was happy, Aster could tell. Until finally, the surface grew green and clouds dotted above the layer to form an atmosphere. Smaller forms of Lepus, the same shape and design as her, rose up on the surface and Lepus’ constellation light grew brighter in joy. Aster beamed at the constellations happiness and felt curiosity bubble up through that happiness. 

With the close of the story, the light image around their heads folded together and slipped back into the scrolls as if a vacuum had beckoned it. Kit’s all around him started shouting their questions, “Who was the first Pooka Lepus made?”

“Did she make the other animals too?”

The teacher grinned with the joy of her students' curiosity and said, “Lepus made A. Ntaeus and E. Stes first. She also created all of the animals on this planet, except the Anguish of course.”

Hani’s eyes were wide, “Easter! You have an ‘E’ in front of your name too!”

“We should ask Buca abou it when we get home,” Aster said. 

Another kit asked, “Is Lepus still here?”

“Oh, yes,” The instructor reassured, “Lepus is our center. She gives us life and the ability to use magic and her abilities. She is the reason we can use growth magic and why our elders can manipulate time. Each and every one of us is connected to her. While other planets’ inhabitants grow old with age and sickness, Lepus protects us from those things.”

Aster inhaled sharply in excitement and glanced down at the soil. Ever since he was a newborn kit, Aster had been able to sense it. Just a little further, just a little deeper… there! The green curls of pure light and energy that came from a source way underneath the ground. Before now, Aster had no clue what could be at the center giving off this much life and light, but he knew it was the reason everything lived. Everything was connected to it, after all. Even as they sat on the ground, their tendrails of light stretched through their feet and into the ground, connecting them to the life force that was bubbling with energy. 

“Lepus still sleeps at the center of the planet,” She reassured, “So as long as she sleeps, we will all stay connected to her.”

“What does she look like now?”Aster piped up, so excited to ask his question he could hardly stay still.

She startled, “Oh. I’ve never been to the core of the planet. That is not for Arivum Pooka to do. Our responsibility is to tend to the surface of the planet. Only Cuniculus, the Burrow Pooka guard the First Pooka and tend to the burrows underground and even then, I don’t think most of them ever see Lepus.”

Aster shifted in disappointment but was not deterred, “But what does she look like? Does she still look like a constellation?”

“I don’t-“

“Does she have a green light?”

“I’m sorry, green…?”

Aster beamed, “Yeah! Green light. At the center there’s this amazing green light. It’s her, isn’t it?” 

There was murmuring now, every kit rustling and whispering in confusion. His ears, perked up and attentive, now started to droop further down to the base of his skull.

“Easter…” The teacher said, her face apprehensive, “There is no ‘green light’ coming from the center. 

He frowned, “Yes, there is. All you have to do is look past the dirt and then-“

“Look past the dirt?” She laughed in surprise, “You can’t look through solid objects. That’s impossible.”

“Aster,” Hani whispered, tugging on his sleeve. 

His eyebrows narrowed on his face, “But I can. All I have to do is close my eyes and I can see-“

“Okay, that’s quite enough of that,” She interrupted, “I do not know what the First Pooka looks like, but I know her light isn’t green, and it is not possible to see from here. She is hidden inside her burrow and egg, and you and I, or any of us will most likely never know what she looks like.”

“Why?”

She said, “Well, we don’t need to. That’s not our job and it doesn’t matter either way since she will always be there to give us life and growth magic.”

He stopped talking but his lips were pressed into a fine line, and his light was blazing underneath his skin. The green tendrils of light from the core seemed to intertwine with his and stoke the fire that was starting to blaze within him. Growth magic and tending to the fields. That’s all she thought Aster could do. There was more magic, Aster was learning about the three other Pookan clans who all used different kinds of magic and did different jobs. Why did he have to stop at Arivum growth magic? There were so many amazing things to learn! He wanted to burrow down to the center of the planet and gaze at Lepus’ light with his own eyes, he wanted to fight with the strength of Kheamha and her six arms and sharp teeth, he wanted run through time like Lepus who evaded the dogs and Buca who saved Hani from the river. Aster could do so much and he was going to do it all. And, well, if he couldn’t, then he’s just going to have to fix that. 

“Understood?” The teacher asked, her brown eyes pinning Aster in place.

He inhaled, filling his lungs with air and meeting his teachers eyes, “I understand.”

Hani looked at him with worried doubtful eyes. Aster grinned and whispered, “I understand I just have to work harder to get there.”

“Aster,” Hani sounded like he wanted to protest, but Aster’s determined glint in his eyes mirrored Hani’s own. Hani knew there was no stopping him.

“I’m going to get answers to my questions, Hani,” Aster whispered, eyeing the teachers turned back, “I’m going to see her light myself and be more than just an Arivum Pooka.”

“Alright,” Hani sighed and cupped his hands around a small budding plant, “But you’re going to have to get better at your growth magic first.”

“Hey! I’m good at growth magic!” Aster protested.

Hani’s light was laughing, but his face was impassive as he studied Aster’s plant, “It looks sad.”

Aster deadpanned, “It’s not sad.”

“Sad little plant,” Hani hummed and turned back to his own bright plant.

“It’s not sad. It’s-” Aster could see it’s light and, okay, maybe it was a little sad. A small shriveled little thing, “Okay, fine. But I’ll grow a better plant than you one day!”

“Yeah,” Hani said, “But until then, it’s still a sad little plant.”

Aster scoffed. He always had to have the last word, didn’t he? Well, this time Aster let him have that small triumph because soon, Aster was going to be the best at everything. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“How old are you anyway, Buca?” Aster asked.

Buca snorted, “Guess.”

He always did this. It was never a simple ask and answer conversation. Buca always made Aster work for the answer. 

Aster huffed, making a big show of annoyance- it was their routine- and said, “Well, you have to be at least a thousand cycles.”

“Bold estimate to make with no evidence,” Buca said. 

“Buca,” Aster shoved his shoulder playfully and rolled his eyes. Most adult Pooka’s he knew were at least a thousand cycles, “I know you’re at least a thousand because you said Keloi was born a thousand cycles ago.”

His Buca frowned and nodded, “Fair enough. So at least a thousand.”

“But you’re also at least _two_ thousand because you said that I don’t have to worry about having another sibling for a thousand years. So that means you will wait a thousand cycles to have another kit and you already _have_ waited a thousand cycles to have Hani and me.”

“Hani and I,” Buca corrected absentmindedly, “You remember that?”

Aster shrugged and fought against the disappointment sinking in his smile. It was when Aster learned of the importance of his name that Buca told him that. Something that stuck with Aster throughout the years and labeled him as special, important, at least in his Buca’s eyes. 

“Well, you must be super old if you don’t remember it,” Aster muttered and started to turn away to find something else to occupy himself with.

“Oh, hold on little kit,” Buca scooped him up by his arms and grunted with the extra weight Aster had gained while growing. Nearly up to Buca’s waist now, Aster was growing in height and stature. His ears, at least, reached Buca’s elbows. He wasn’t anywhere close to Doa’s broad shoulders or her height, but Aster counted it a win anyway. Doa always teased that Aster would grow taller than Buca. Hani, though, Hani might grow even taller than her. He was the taller of the two and Aster pouted when Hani reached up on his toes to prevent Aster from grabbing something out of his hands. Their legs were fully extended now, which added to their height, and his feet were growing. 

“I never said I didn’t remember,” Buca assured, “That was the day you asked about your name, wasn’t it? You worried I wouldn’t have enough love to give to all of you? Hmm?”

Buca nuzzled his face, and Aster pushed away with a small protest, “Bucaaa.” It was embarrassing, just like being a small Pooka asking questions was embarrassing. Age was important, and every day Aster couldn’t wait until he was as old as his Buca. 

“See? I may be old, but I don’t forget,” Buca assured, “In fact, I can still remember when I was your age.”

“Really?” 

He nodded, “Really. I went to school, like you, in that very same burrow, but it was a little bit different. They’re always changing the curriculum.”

With a small pause and a flash of hesitation on his face, Buca said, “There was no war when I was your age, so I never learned how to defend myself like you are learning now. I didn’t even know how to throw a punch.”

He gave a self-deprecating chuckle as Aster looked at him with eyes blown wide, “You didn’t learn how to do martial arts, Buca?!”

At his school, you were automatically labeled a loser if you were bad at training in self defense. His Buca couldn’t be a loser! They trained everyday since the first day of school ten years ago. His instructors told him of a great war in the sky that gone on for so long that they called it the Forever War. They taught him the correct way to stand in his curled kit form and how to bat ferociously with his paws and to use his claws and teeth to bite, hit, and scratch any Dream Pirate or Fearlings he came across. Each method was tactifully executed and explained, thumbs to the eyes- they’re glowing so you couldn’t miss them, and extremely sensitive- and a solid kick to their core -the middle of their chest has no heart so their lungs will cave in and collapse on nothing with a strong enough punch or kick. 

“Psh,” Buca teased, “You can’t even say martial arts right!”

In his speech he tended to talk so fast that he skipped over a few words. It wasn’t his fault his mouth couldn’t keep up with his brain. Ask him to spell it though, Aster could spell it out with his left paw and his toes. 

“Wait, if there was no war when you were a kit, does that mean you’re…” Aster gasped, “You’re forever cycles old?” Then he must be as old as the planet! Maybe he was even related to some of the first Pooka that Lepus created. 

He laughed, “Not forever, but close. They say the war has gone on forever, it’s only been a couple million cycles. Around four hundred million.”

“Four hundred mill… wow. So you are four hundred million cycles old? That’s a long time.”

Buca said, “It is, but most Pooka live longer. Or- we used to until…”

The word never left his mouth, instead they stayed trapped inside the windows of Buca’s eyes, reflecting the green of his light and glowing blue with he sadness of his core. Aster never thought of Buca’s blue light as sad, but it was burning with the feeling now, “Buca…?” Aster, bigger than he used to be, but still a kit with tuffs of fluff around his ears and on his cheeks, nuzzled Buca’s chest and wrapped his small paws as far as they could reach around his Buca’s torso. 

“It’s okay if you don’t know how to fight,” Aster finally said, “I can protect you.”

Buca, who was previously chinning the top of Aster’s head perked up, “Oh you can, can you?”

“Yup! I’m really good at it! I can protect you.”

“Oh, phew, but-” Buca released a breath before growing a mischievous smile on his, “-now I’m worried. Who will protect you from me?”

Aster started, “From what?”

“From me!” Buca’s hands that were previously resting passively on Aster’s back were now digging into his sides to find the ticklish spots that made Aster yelp in indignation and laugh until he couldn’t breathe, “Fearsome Aster, why haven’t you saved yourself?”

“Buca!” Aster protested between giggles, “I’m too old for tickle fights!”

“Old?” Buca nibbled in between his neck playfully, “Who? You?”

“Yes! I’m ten! Ten cycle Pooka don’t-“ A wild cackle cut him off.

Buca retreated with a victorious grin, “Okay, okay, so if big ten cycle Pooka don’t have tickle fights with their Buca then what am I supposed to do with one?”

“Chase!” As soon as he was free, Aster leaped from Buca’s lap and darted a few feet in front of him. 

Buca laughed, “Oh, you don’t want to race me.”

Oh, but he did. Aster hadn’t stopped practicing running through time, and what better way to do it than race his Buca who could? 

* * *

It was Hani who remembered to ask their Buca if he was related to E. Stes. Aster, who swore he was going to, forgot as soon as the game of chase had commenced. Buca won yesterday and Aster didn’t run through time, but he didn’t mind so much. He had gotten used to the failure of it. Frustrating, yes, but Aster almost didn’t notice. He loved running and it was just more practice before he actually did it. They told him it took a long time to learn anyway.

The first morning sun was creeping over the horizon but the second had yet to accompany it. Oranges and pinks spread over the sky as they walked to school and Aster frowned at the rising sun and glanced at Buca who was also gazing at it. They could see the light, right? He closed his eyes and the sun gave off the same light as it did with his eyes open. The only difference was that now his eyes didn’t sting from it’s rays. Aster started to crouch down, ready to sprint into the distance and kick dirt up beneath his feet, but paused when Hani said, “Buca, do you know who E. Stes is?”

Aster glared at Hani, but his brother only gave him an innocent look. Of course he had to ask Buca now, instead of letting Aster train, “E. Stes? Of course. He’s one of the first Pooka.”

Hani pointed out, “He has the same first letter as you.”

Buca reached out and ruffled the fur on his head, “You caught that, didn’t you? Well, it does make sense seeing that we are related to him.”

“Really?!” Aster said, beaming. Then they just _had_ to let Aster see Lepus. He was related to one of the First Pooka!

“Oh, yeah, he’s uh,” Buca frowned, “He’s my great granbuca. My Buca’s Buca.”

Aster said, “That’s amazing!”

He smiled, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it, Buca,” Hani, the faithful observer, said. 

Buca laughed, the sound he made when he got caught. Doa was the best at catching him. Hani was the second best. Aster tended to let some things slip over his head. It was hard to focus on things like people’s hidden meanings in their words when he was paying attention to their cores and the rustling of a pink lighted animal in the tall yellow stalks of grass. 

“Well,” Buca sighed, cupping the backs of his kits heads, “ Sometimes being family isn’t that easy. Not as easy as it is with you two and Ahua. When you’ve known someone for a long time… there’s a lot of room to make mistakes and say the wrong things.” 

Hani nodded in understanding, “So you fought with him.”

“Yes.”

Aster, on the other hand, asked questions, “But won’t we know you for a long time?”

“Eventually,” Buca answered, “Let’s just hope we don’t say the wrong things to each other.”

“We won’t,” Aster said. He couldn’t imagine fighting with Buca for a long time. Even if he lived to five billion cycles, Aster hoped that he could still talk to his Buca. 

Buca stayed outside to watch for the Anguish and other threats while they ducked under the carved entrance to the school. It opened into a wide clearing of stone. Aster and Hani’s burrow was carved from dirt and held solid with the roots of the cotan stems and the few trees around their meadow. Buca said the school burrow was around since he was a kit, and the age was known with the cracks in the stone wall and the numerous paintings from kits with old and flaking paint. The stone walls were carved with bookshelves and lined with scrolls and supplies. Long windows let the natural light seep into the dark burrow and bugs that illuminated the space hovered around and slept in the folds of the scrolls. They were learning how to speak the language of the Lunars today and practiced saying their vowels out loud before they wrote their own sentences down on their scrolls. 

Aster was trying to concentrate on shaping his letters perfectly spaced and printed when a bright red light crackling next to him and stole his attention. The burrow was big, the size of two fields and the few instructors they had were all standing away from where Aster and Hani sat. 

“Hey, Aster,” Cacue said and one of Aster’s ears flicked towards him in split attention, “Why did you say that yesterday?”

“Say what?” Aster curved the letter just perfectly and dotted the end of the sentence with the proper punctuation. 

Cacue smiled, but his eyes were narrowed, “You know. The light thing. You said you could see Lepus’ light.”

Aster perked up and smiled at Cacue. Not many Pooka asked Aster about his lights whenever he talked about them. Hani listened the best, but he didn’t ask too many questions, “I can see everything's light.” 

“What?” Cacue frowned, “Really?”

“Yeah! Everything has a light. Pooka expeccially. I can’t see it very well with my eyes open, but when I close my eyes I can see the lights perfectly.”

He looked at him funny, “You can see… with your eyes closed?” 

“Yeah!” Aster’s light flickered in happiness, “Sometimes I can even see better with my eyes closed.”

Cacue scoffed, “Well, why can’t I see the lights?”

“Oh,” Aster frowned and his happiness dimmed a bit, “You can’t? I thought everyone could.” Except for maybe their teacher. But Hani and Buca were looking at the sunrise just like Aster was. People talked about light all the time. Even the Pookan warriors of the Forever War swore an oath to protect and gaurd the light. Surely they were talking of the same thing. 

This seemed to anger Cacue and his red light crackled and flickered up to his eyes. It was then that Aster realized that not only Cacue had approached him, but his six other siblings. Most pooka didn’t have siblings since they could only have kits every thousand cycles, but Cacue had six and each of his siblings looked different from him. They followed him everywhere, like he was their leader, and Aster always appreciated the more friends he could play the hiding game with. 

“No!” Cacue said, now angry for a reason Aster didn’t quite understand, “No one can see them. Right, Allus? Ciario?”

His siblings piped up, “I’ve never seen any lights.”

“You can’t see with your eyes closed, silly.”

Aster frowned, “Yes, I can. And the biggest light comes from Lepus in the center! I can tell!”

“How?”

“Well, I can see it!” Aster said, “I thought everyone could.”

Cacue laughed, “I think you’re just making it up.”

“I’m not!” Aster said, the scrolls forgotten in his lap as he looked up at Cacue. 

He shrugged, “Okay then prove it. What color is… her light!”

He pointed to a random kit and Aster didn’t understand how this would prove his truthfulness, “She has a light blue light. Everyone has a different light but sometimes they have similar colors if they are related.”

“Okay, what’s Ciario’s light look like?”

Aster said, “Dark green. Like the trees in the Collie clan in that scrolls we read a few days ago. Allus’ light kinda looks like his but a lighter shade of green.”

“Oh! Oh! What’s mine, Easter?” Another kit asked.

Aster mumbled, “Um, yellow. Like the second sun.”

“Does mine look like my sister’s?”

“Yes,” Aster shrank at the sudden crowd of kits that were around him, “It’s pink and yellow and hers is pink and orange.”

“What’s mine, then?” Cacue asked.

Aster hesitated. The entirety of the class was looking down at him as they stood around Hani and him. Some curious, some dubious, some glaring. Hani, though not a part of the interrogation, sat next to Aster still and sent cautious gazes to each of the kits and Aster. Cacue’s fire burned brighter and glowed visibly even with Aster’s open eyes.

“Well?”

“Red,” Aster closed his eyes and said, “Like an angry fire.”

Hani whispered in warning, “Aster-“

Red wasn’t a beautiful color to the Pooka. Even their suns took on a more yellow tone than the red that some planets had. None of their paints were red. None of their flowers were either. Red was the color of the Dream Pirates flag and the blood of that decapitated Anguish’s head. Red was a war that had gone on too long. 

“You’re _lying_!” Cacue shouted and his snout was creased in a snarl. 

Aster started to get up to stand, “No! I’m-“ only Cacue shoved him down. Aster’s pen flew out of his hands as he crashed into Hani. 

“Hey!” His brother steadied him as he glared up at Cacue.

“You can’t see anything! You can’t see any lights!” Cacue shouted, “You’re lying to get attention like you always do with that stupid game you say you invented!”

Aster growled, “I’m not lying! I can see their light’s! Your light is red!”

“It’s not!” Cacue barked, “You’re a liar! You lie about your games, you lie about your Buca running through time, you lie about-“

“No, I don’t!” Aster shouted, “My Buca _can_ run through time! I saw him!”

“Oh, yeah?Just like you see your fake lights?” Cacue taunted and leaned closer to rub the mockery in his face. 

“They’re not fake! Your light is red and mean-“

“Shut up!”

“-and it looks exactly like your Buca’s light!” 

Pain exploded in his face before Aster could blink. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he hated the sight of the red light flickering and raging into his own white light. Hani’s light was dim and frightened so Aster couldn’t even draw strength from it. His nose pulsed with pain and something sticky trickled out of his nose.

He opened his watery eyes to see the red flame of Cacue’s core burning up into his eyes, “How’s _that_ for red, huh?” 

Aster snarled, and it hurt to curl his snout into that expression, but he did anyway and hissed, “I’m right and you know it.”

“Really?” Cacue said, cocky and proud of the pain he caused and the hint of fear that reflected in Aster’s eyes, “Then why can’t anyone else see them? What about you? Can you see them? No? You?”

Cacue pointedly looked at at the crowd that had gathered around Aster’s fallen form. His head swiveled around as he watched each kit shake their head. Dread seeped into his light like cold water drawing the warmth from his warm fur. No one…?

“What about you, Khani? Can _you_ see the mystical lights?” Cacue goaded with an evil smirk of triumph on his face. Aster felt Hani’s hands on his arms tightened in anxiety.

“You’re just being a bully, Cacue-“ Hani started.

Cacue cut him off, “That’s not what I asked. Can you see them?”

“It doesn’t matter-“

“ _Can you see them?”_

Hani halted, eyes wide and caught and he didn’t look at Aster, “See? Either we’re all lying... or you are, Aster.”

“I’m not,” His voice was tiny and small with the eyes of every kit on him, judging him and pinning him in place. He felt shame well up in his eyes as hot and as red as the blood that trickled down his snout. 

“Well,” Cacue chuckled, “You're definitely not some _special_ case. So that means you're just a liar.” 

* * *

They washed off the blood in the back. The instructor they passed didn’t give Aster a second glance. Aster wondered if it was because he talked to her about the lights too. And because she couldn’t see them either.

“They don’t see it,” He whispered, “They don’t see it.”

“No,” Hani used a damp cloth to clean the blood seeping into fur. 

“I’m not lying.”

“I know.”

“How?” Aster looked up, betrayal and hurt in his expression.

He shrugged, “I believe in you.”

The dark fur of his eyebrows were creased and sad as he continued to clean off the blood and dab the cloth around his nose. Aster let him, knowing that Hani would slap away his hands if he tried. It was their thing. While Aster would slick back the fur on Hani’s forehead and smooth out the jagged tattooed lines, Hani would brush down the tuft of fur that liked to stick up between his ears. If Hani were bleeding, Aster would clean it up too. 

“Aster,” Hani hesitated, “What… what color is my light?”

It hurt to smile but the tips of his lips curled upwards anyway as Aster fought back the sudden moisture in his eyes, “It’s white. Just like mine.”

“Really?”

“We have the same light,” Aster said, “Just like the two suns.”

Hani rested his chin on Aster’s shoulder and his lone light molded with Aster and helped flicker a little brighter. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Arivum Pooka: The Meadow Pooka. Living in the Savannah/grasslands area of their world. On this planet, their crops grow the best in this climate and the majority are farmers and harvesters. Stay on the surface of the planet.
> 
> Nixava Pooka: The Snow Pooka. Living in the mountainous, forest area of their world. Physically stronger, taller. Fanged and usually six armed. They have large padded feet. Their fur resembles their climate of snow and is white and very thick.
> 
> Cuniculus Pooka: The Burrow Pooka. Living underneath the ground in tunnels and burrows. Close to the center of Lepus and charged with guarding Lepus. (More will be released in later chapters)
> 
> Ahua/Kahua- Aster’s and Hani’s Doa and Eamon’s Doe. Part Arivum Pooka and Nixava Pooka  
> Eamon/Amon- Aster’s and Hani’s Buca and Ahua’s Buck. Arivum Pooka  
> Hani/Khani- Aster’s brother and twin light. Arivum and Nixava Pooka  
> Kheamha- Ahua’s Buca. Aster and Hani’s grandbuca. She/her pronouns. Nixava Pooka  
> Keloi- Aster and Hani’s older sibling. Eamon and Ahua’s first born. Arivum and Nixava Pooka. Switching pronouns. 
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience
> 
> ~
> 
> Listen, you know those people who are really old friends and they won’t talk for months but when they do meet up they can NOT STOP talking? Yeah. That’s the Guardians. I tried to make them stop, honestly I did, but they just kept talking. 
> 
> If you have read the books you get a few of these references here, but if you haven’t then I’ll explain. Tooth is basically a real queen over her palace and Tooth Faries, but she doesn’t like to be called queen after Pitch pointed out that she’s basically the queen over nothing. I referenced Bunny’s egg army once and yes, it does exist in the books and North admitted to being impressed with them. I’ll go into how they were destroyed later, but I also mentioned how Bunny invented Chocolate. And yes. He did in the books, and I can’t wait to explain that to Jack because he is vv confused right about now. And it is my firm belief that Jack fully believes he doesn’t have any friends until he hangs out with them and is like ‘okay maybe’. Every time. Also a fun movie reference, remember when Jack says ”Oh man, I really wish I had a camera right now.” And Sandy gives him a look. 
> 
> Another movie reference I was wondering if you guys caught is during Easter when the kids walk through Bunny and he says “They don’t see me. They don’t see me.”  
> I think it parallels to Aster’s childhood of not being believed over something that is very important to him.
> 
> And a little bit of Pookan mythology for you! It’s based on the real constellation Lepus that we can see in the sky, that looks like it is being chased by Orion’s dogs. The book talks of ‘constellations ruling the universe’ so I thought that a constellation must be ruling the Pookan people, what better one that the rabbit constellation Lepus itself? 
> 
> All of your comments are appreciated and make me smile, even if they are a simple one word comment. Thanks guys! I’ll see you next week!


	11. The Heart is a Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some rough times and then some not so rough times
> 
> “Jack realized he finally had someone to worry about him, to check up on him. It was a horribly good feeling to have after nearly drowning again. So he ignored the good feeling that bubbled up in his chest and hauled himself to his feet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack: So ppl actually care about me??? Ha, not about that
> 
> Also I hate chapter summaries

####  **968 CYCL BMiM**

####  **Aster Bunnymund age: 32 CYCL, 10 solannos, 3 phases**

Aster always thought that seeing the lights was good. It was the first thing he knew. It was another sense, just as important as his sense of smell and ability to hear. Closing his eyes gave him just as much information, if not more than the twitching in his ears and nose. His first memories were of light. His entire  _ world _ was made up of light. Blooming from the center of the world and spreading to every living thing. It flickered and curled around the base of their dessert trees and cupped each being in the warm glow. It spread through his feet and up through his strong legs, propelling him forward, beating his heart, thrumming in his hands, crackling in his ears, and coating his eyes in new sight. It was everywhere! How could they not see it? The light touched everything, bathing it in a warm glow as the two suns did every dawn. Aster knew they could see the suns. They could see the stars and the twinkling moons wink at them. They could see the blue glow from the lanterns they used. Why was the light Aster could see any different? Lepus was a celestial being made up of stars and constellations. Surely  _ she  _ had light that everyone could see. 

Such an innocent question, had started it all. A question that Aster could barely remember asking. It seemed obvious, in hindsight, that no one could see the lights like Aster could. No one talked about them as much as he did, no one seemed to care if they dimmed each other’s lights by harsh words.

Even when playing a simple kit’s game, their words would pierce, “ Maybe Easter can help you find them. He can see while closing his eyes!”

In the middle of class, a kit would nudge his shoulder and ask him what color the sky was, asking if he saw a different color and giggling as they did. Sometimes they would startle him with simple spells of casting light and shine the directly in his open eyes. It was then that he started to make the contrast. 

The light  _ they _ could see  _ hurt.  _

After the kits would shine the harsh light into his eyes, Aster would blink rapidly to dispel the light that blinded him. Dark after images would burn and dance on his vision and Aster was left terrifyingly blind for a moment, until the harsh light faded from his eyelids and Aster could see  _ his  _ lights again.  _ His _ lights didn’t hurt.

He pieced together that light was painful to most pooka when there was too much of it. Buca would wince at the glaring sun and close his eyes to find relief in the darkness. Doa always preferred the damp and darkness of their burrow, and Hani always warned Aster not to look directly into the sun, just like he did at the Sun Ceremony. Aster thought he was ridiculous then; the light could never hurt him, and when he closed his eyes the same suns that burned Buca would glow with warmth and almost soothe Aster’s tired eyes. 

Maybe that was why the kits liked to tease and harm him with the very thing that Aster found comfort from. Maybe all they knew was the harsh blue glow of the underground lanterns and the blindness that came from staring at it for too long. The harshness of their lights echoed the piercing words they spat at him and the sneers on their faces. 

Aster never said anything in response. He didn’t need to prove himself to them. They would think he was a liar anyway, and the only person that Aster carried about knowing the truth was Hani. So Aster stayed quiet most days and collected treasure with Hani when they were forced into social situations like recess. Sometimes Hani would play with other kits, but Aster didn’t mind. Just because no one wanted to be friends with him, didn’t mean that Hani had to share the same fate. 

“So, Easter,” One kit spoke up, “Do your eyes even work at all? Or only when they’re closed?”

Aster glowered at the kit. His fur was brown and dotted with white spots. His eyes blended into his blurry shape of brown and Aster refused to tell him that his sight  _ was  _ better when he closed his eyes. He could see the exact outline of every pooka in perfect detail, from the tips of their ears down to the size of their feet. With his eyes open, there was more intricate detail, but it was sort of blurred in a way that the lights weren’t. When he rubbed the gritty surface of a rock, Aster could feel the texture and see the glow it gave off, but he couldn’t see the grains in the rock or what caused the grit he felt with the pads of his fingers. But he wasn’t about to tell his class mate that. 

When he didn’t answer, the snickers answered for him, and usually, Hani did as well, “Shut up, guys. Don’t be mean.”

Most pooka backed off for a reason that Aster couldn’t quite understand. It was as if Hani just had a way over Pooka and knew how to talk to them, a skill Aster couldn’t wrap his head around. The more and more Hani seemed to understand them and how to deal with them, the more Aster found himself distancing from them. Why did he need them? They were cruel and their lights were lies. The kit with the pretty pink core that curled in her center like moving flower petals shot cruel jokes towards him. The warm dark green light of another kit was deceptive as she laughed at him the loudest. Aster could read them easily, their lights gave away far more about them than they ever could guess, but he didn’t understand it.

The lights  _ lied _ . 

When one light shriveled in guilt, the Pooka it belonged to laughed louder. When the teacher's light flared in unbridled anger, her smile was wider than ever. It lied, it lied, it lied. Even Hani’s light lied when it swelled up in defensive outrage on Aster’s behalf and he would speak calmly and ask them to leave him alone. So Aster was starting to turn his back on the sense, a little bit. How could he trust it? The world around him was beating him down for something Aster thought was good and wonderful, but if they hated it so much then maybe Aster didn’t need it as much as he thought he did. A feeling of tar and darkness curled around his center, suffocating the light that flickered resiliently. It was so confusing. One feeling would flicker out of the lights Aster saw and another action would come out. What could he trust? Who could he trust? The lights were warm and familiar, but he wanted the comfort that came from another Pooka’s smile and acceptance. 

Three lights sparkled maliciously, bringing his attention to them, “Hey, Easter,” Cacue called, “come play with us!”

His smile was bright and inviting, but his fierce red light made Aster hesitate. Maybe… maybe the light was wrong like it always was. Maybe Cacue really did want him to play. It had been a really long time since Aster was invited to play a game with anyone. 

“Okay,” He hopped over to them and searched their eyes for any deceit, “What are we playing?”

Cacue grinned, “Dream Pirates!”

Aster’s face twitched in a smile, but he held it back at the last second. Revealing the true intentions that his light sparked seemed dangerous now. Like it was secret that only Aster knew, “Okay. That sounds fun.”

“Perfect!” Cacue said, “I’ll be General Kozmotis Pitchner and you two can be members of my Intervallum army! Easter, you can be the Pirate King!”

Aster’s ears drooped, “Why do I have to be the Pirate King?”

“Don’t you know?” Cacue asked, voice innocent as his light roared violently to life, “The Pirate King is the only creature in the universe who claims he can see special light. Oh, and I guess that means you two, Easter.”

“What?” 

“Yeah! Who knew you had so much in common with the Pirate who is responsible for the Forever War!”

Darkness crashed down on all sides of him, smothering him and paralyzing him to the spot. His light crackled and withered as theirs seemed to roar louder in his ears. 

_ Oh,  _ Aster thought in a small, withering voice,  _ my lights  _ can  _ hurt.  _

  
  


* * *

Aster looked down and picked at a stray string on his trousers,“Doa?” 

“Yeah, kit?” Doa hummed as she sorted out and stretched the cotan in baskets. 

“What do you know about the Pirate King?”

Doa stopped. Her light dimmed. Her facial expression did not, “Why? Are you guys learning about him in school?”

“Yeah,” Aster lied, “I just thought since you fought in the war, you would know some stuff about him.”

Doa hummed, “Well, I’ve never met him, thank Lepus. No one has, except Kozmotis Pitchner. In a dream, the Pirate King snuck into his subconscious and tried to steal the general’s plans from his mind.”

“Oh, that’s… that really scary,” Aster mumbled. At least he couldn’t see dreams. And he would never try to steal from someone. 

“Yeah, he is scary. But you don’t have to worry, Aster. He is far away form here and he won’t hurt you. The Pooka won’t allow it.”

“That’s good,” Aster hummed, knowing this from hearing it every time any adult told him about the war and how scary it really was, “But, um does he have any extra, special powers like that?”

“Who? Kozmotis-“ Doa brightened as she began talking about the general. His reputation was growing from planet to planet and not a soul spoke ill of him unless there were on the Pirate King’s side. 

“No, the Pirate King.”

“Oh,” Doa blinked, “I can’t think of anything besides the typical facts about him: stealing dreams and light of children, plundering planets, turning the inhabitants into fearlings, captaining the largest and fastest space vessel in time and space-“

Aster jerked to attention, “Light? He steals- Why does he steal light? And- and dreams.”

Doa hesitated, looking at Aster for a long moment before she said,“They say he has none for himself. He’s empty inside. So he steals the dreams from the brightest source there is— children.”

“He steals their light?” Aster’s voice cracked, “Because he can see it? Why? Why would he…”

Doa crouched down, turning her full attention to Aster now that she could see his panic. Aster wondered how she knew his feelings when she couldn’t see his light giving it away, “Sometimes… when someone doesn’t have the love and the…  _ light  _ they need, they want it so badly for themselves that they don’t care if they hurt other people to get it.”

“Why doesn’t he have any light?” Aster asked. To be without light, just like the Anguish. Was he as cruel and predatory as that monster?

“Well, metaphorically I think. Light as in their essence. Their soul. Their love and joy. What makes them, them,” Doa explained and Aster frowned. Doa didn’t think Aster could see light. She didn’t think it was physically something bright that Aster could see glowing in the backs of his eyelids every single night, “I don’t think he ever had the light. Or if he did, he lost it. But they say he can feel what he lost so he searches for it and tries to get it back.”

“But, Doa,” Aster insisted, “Can he.. can  _ see  _ the light like-“

“...like?” She looked at him, patient and imploring. Doa didn’t think Aster could see the light, but maybe she would believe him. Her light was just as open as her expression and it was a light that Aster memorized the particular shade of deep purple and the slight flowing shimmers of silver that wafted out from her center smoothly. 

“Can he see the light like I can?”

He held his breath and glued his gaze to the soft brown dirt of their burrow floor. It did nothing. Aster could always see the lights no matter what direction he was looking. 

“Oh, Aster, did someone say something again-?” 

Hani must have told her about it because Aster hadn’t said anything in years. As a younger kit, he babbled about the light and everything he saw, to his parents, to Hani, to the kits he played with. But now he kept a tight lid on what he wanted to say about it. Usually nothing , if he could avoid the torment for a few days. 

“No! No, it's fine, I was just wondering, but,” Aster brushed away her concern, and looked up with wide eyes, “ _ can _ the Pirate King see light just like I can?”

Doa started, “I don’t think ‘like you’ is the right word-“

“Can he?”

“Aster-“

“Doa!” He exclaimed, tears building in his stupid eyes that didn’t work properly and only had sight when he closed them and saw things that everyone else said weren’t there.

“There are rumors,” Doa murmured, “That The Pirate King can sense light in a way that normal people can’t. That’s how he knows how and who to steal it from.”

He sniffled and shoved a paw up to his cheek as if he could forcibly push the tears back. Another paw landed on his cheek, bigger and darker than his, warm. Like purple light. 

“But that doesn’t mean that you are like him, Aster. You’re nothing like him.”

“I know I’m not,” Aster sniffled angrily, “I would never steal anybody’s light. I don’t want their light. I don't even want to see it.”

Doa looked at him like she was going to admonish him, tilting her head to the side and narrowing her eyebrows in argument, but instead she asked, “What does it look like?”

Aster startled at the question, and his light flickered happily in response despite his upset expression, “It’s- it’s loud! It never stops, and it's always there. Like bright balls of energy in everyone that I can’t ignore. Like suns.”

“Suns?” Doa questioned gently, paw still resting gently on his shoulder.

“Yeah, like everyone has their own personal sun in their center,” Aster shifted, “They each look different too. Buca’s is green in the center. And blue on the edges. Kinda like Lepus.”

Doa’s eyebrows raised suddenly at the mention of their planet and Aster hurried on, remembering the backlash he received from his classmates and teacher, “And, and Hani and I have the same light! And your’s is the prettiest color purple I’ve seen.”

“Really?” Doa’s expression was creased and smiling and her light built up at being mentioned. 

A real smile was starting to take over his face, “Yeah! Hani and my light is just white though, but I like our light.” 

She smiled, “You do?”

“Yes,”Aster said without thinking and then frowned, “Well. I thought I did.”

Depending on the light was second nature. Loving his sight was harder. Initially, he had loved his ability easily, just as any kit loves the sensation of touching and brushing their families fur, or tasting their favorite food, or seeing the color and happiness in someone’s smile. Only, when everyone else couldn’t see like he could and hated that he saw more than they did, Aster started wondering if he should hate it too. It was impossible to ignore it, impossible to trust it, impossible to love it. Aster didn’t know  _ what  _ to do. 

“Aster,” Doa said and tilted his face to look directly in her eyes, “You should feel proud of your gift.”

His lower lip pressed into a frown as an emotional flare of heat burst up into his face. She stroked away a tear of burning acid that was about to fall with her thumb and said, “It’s beautiful. Your sight. I’m so sorry I never-“

Doa sighed and cupped his cheek, “I never believed you, and I’m sorry for not noticing sooner. But this gift that you have, Aster, yes, it is a gift- don’t shake your head at me. It’s amazing. It is not evil. I don’t know if the Pirate King has the same sight as you, Aster, but even if he does, it shows me that there will always be an equal amount of good to combat that evil.”

“Meticus Exes is using his gift for evil,” Doa said and he startled, “Use yours for good, Aster.”

His light was burning, but it was warm. It never hurt- not in the way other lights burned. It licked up his chest, growing more confident there, flicking the corner of his mouth up with a tendrils flame, swirling into his eyes that held glowing white hope in them, “How?”

“What’ve you’ve already done silly,” Doa smiled, “Use it.”

  
  
  


* * *

**December 24th, Christmas Eve, 2012**

  
  


“God, shut  _ up, _ ” Jack thumped his head against a building and cast a vengeful glance at the accessory on his wrist that was currently buzzing. For the past few days, the Guardians were  _ unrelentless  _ in their calls to the fancy bracelet that Jack originally thought of as useful and thoughtful, but now was leaning more towards the most annoying thing he’s ever received. 

North called the least with it being a few days from Christmas and all, while Tooth called nearly every hour on the dot. Jack was convicted that Tooth had some of her fairies in charge of pressing the button on her wrist. Next to Tooth’s frequent calls was Bunny, surprisingly. There was a voicemail option that apparently only Bunny knew about, and he used it to give a grumbling, annoyed message every day when the sun came up in Australia.

_ Click,  _ the soft noise of a voice mail incoming and the near silent but powerful vibrations ending. Because of the constant buzzing of his bracelet, Jack was constantly itchy everywhere, which added a significant amount to his irritated-meter. Irritator. Irritatameter. Whatever. It was getting on his nerves and sure, yes, it  _ would  _ be easier to just call them back, but Jack was a petty little thing. Three hundred years of people pissing him off and being unable to see him, made room for lots of petty use of his powers. Frosting over a jerk’s car, icing the stairs of an abuser, freezing a sexist couch potato’s food and drinks solid in their refrigerator. Frankly, the Guardians just needed to mind their own business. Jack knew they wanted to help, or were concerned. Bunny seemed to think that he was dead in a ditch somewhere- “ _ Ya better not be dead or I’ll kill ya myself!” _ Yeah. Jack wasn’t going to answer the phone anytime soon. Or bracelet thingy. 

At first, Jack just didn’t want to talk. They talked  _ a lot  _ during the Christmas party and Jack was socially drained. It sort of made him angry, knowing that he craved that sort of contact for years now, and now that he finally had it, he couldn’t handle it. Instead of actually communicating to his new found friends, he crawled into some cavern in the caves of South Antarctica, gasping and crying, and it wasn’t until morning that he realized he left all of his gifts in North’s workshop. Secretly, he thought he probably didn’t deserve those thoughtful gifts he received. 

And then it was dread. The buzzing of his wrist had startled him out of his glazed eyed look at the ice wall and Jack realized he finally had someone to worry about him, to check up on him. It was a horribly good feeling to have after nearly drowning again. So he ignored the good feeling that bubbled up in his chest and hauled himself to his feet to ice all of the bodies of water in the world again, a sixth time. The locals were complaining about the frigid winter they were having, but Jack was allowed to give them cold winters and Christmases if it meant no more drownings in the lakes, ponds, rivers, or pools. If he has to fish  _ one more  _ dog or stupid teenager out of the pool- Jack was going to keep pools frozen all year round. 

He was skating over a thick slab of ice, his feet sliding as smoothly as skater shoes, and the snowflakes and leaves around him danced along with him. It was mind numbingly methodic to skate random patterns and continuous figure eights into the ice. His rhythm was perfect, in sync with some 50’s ditty stuck in his head, when it was randomly cut off by a loud  _ click!  _ And the sound of Bunny’s voice,  _ “Oi! Frostbite! Pick up, would ya?”  _

Jack slipped and slammed violently enough into the ice that he froze for a minute, holding his breath and waiting for the ice to crack underneath him. 

And then it happened again the next day. Jack was ducking under the roof of a small inn to hide from the glowing tendrils of light that were slipping through the windows. Sandy was looking for Jack. Sandy hadn’t called but once, right after Jack accidentally bumped his golden sand when Bunny’s loud voice suddenly broke the silence with, “ _ Listen, Tooth is freaking out. If you’ve got all your pieces intact give her a call before I rip my own ears off!” _ And Jack startled so badly that he bounced into the golden strand and sand-bunnies popped out of the dreams and danced around Jack's head. He battled them away and flew to the next corner of the earth as soon as he felt Sandy perk up and appear in that location. 

Jack was even considering answering after the fifth frustrated message when the sixth one came in without a shout or garbled, frustrated yell, but with a long sigh,  _ “Look. I know us lot messed up. We haven’t been protecting the children like ya have, but we want to help. Let us make that right, mate. I know you said ya run into a lot of trouble, and North said ya chat with the Wind so the only thing I reckon is that you’re fighting some bogan spirit who’s hurting the children. We won’t come running as soon as ya pick up, if that’s what yer worried about. Just tell us if you’re alright or whatever. No shame in asking for help.”  _

_ Click _ .

It was so strange, to hear the concern in Bunny’s voice. The soft words of the last sentence, growing softer as he was trying to prove to Jack that he wasn’t being arrogant or looking down on him. Jack stared at his bracelet, growing guilt churning in his stomach. The only problem was that Jack wasn’t fighting any spirits or saving any kids. It was  _ Jack’s  _ fault that they were in danger in the first place. What would they think of him? The winter spirit that swore to protect people from winter, but almost got two kids killed because he couldn’t do his job right.

_ Lazy, stupid, no-good, evil, too late, cursed- _

_ Hey,  _ Twiner said gently interrupting,  _ stop that.  _

Jack didn’t respond to the call that time either. And now, well, it was too late, wasn’t it? He procrastinated until it was too late and now he really couldn’t do anything. Well, there was one thing he could do, but it didn’t involve socializing what so ever. No, what he had planned involved a tactic that made Jack’s joyful center dance with excitement.

It was a soft tinkling noise that had Jack perking up in the tree he lounged on. One corner of his lips turned up and he glanced upwards towards the great night sky. The moon was bright tonight and Jack, despite everything, basked in the light it gave off. It was a perfect winter night, clear and bright with hints of scattered clouds that Santa’s reindeer hid among. The air was crisp and cold, thanks to Jack, and he grinned at the, “Ho, ho, ho!” That echoed through the night with a slightly more Russian accent to it that every American propaganda commercial and Christmas show out there. 

“That’s my cue,” Jack murmured and stood on one of the thinnest branches of the tree that surely shouldn’t have been able to hold his weight. 

The underbelly of North’s awesome sleigh shot across the sky and Jack laughed as he took off, following the sleigh with a trail of snowflakes in his wake. It was a tentative laugh at first, but it grew as they stretched across the world and the great winter cloud stretched with it. This was the only time he had created a blizzard for someone else, someone who would actually be receptive of Jack’s efforts. With a flick of his staff that was glowing blue with his energy and magic, heavy snow landed on the empty tree branches and sank into the brown mowed grass. As North darted all around Michigan, Jack stayed up in the clouds where the friction of the storm was the greatest. But, hey, it was Michigan. There was never enough snow in Michigan, according to Jack.

With a deep inhaling breath that filled his cheeks and every crevice of his lungs, Jack sucked in all of the winter around him and blew it out over the top of Michigan. No one was out in this winter, not when they could stay warm indoors with their family, but Jack caught a glimpse of a little boy in a window, face pressed against the cold glass. He was excited, no doubt, pointing and gesturing outside. Cute kid. He probably caught a glimpse of Santa bouncing around the roofs with a healthy amount of stealth and the exact opposite. Jack let out a loud laugh as North bellowed out his own hearty one and waved at a child in the window. The Guardians had lost a lot of believers that spring, and Jack approved of North allowing more kids to see him. He softly touched down on the snow covered ground of a front yard, straining his eyes to see the distant figure of Santa’s sleigh when he heard a loud gasp come from the window. Jack turned to see a crowded bundle of kids in the window, the lights off in their room telling Jack of how they were supposed to be asleep. The window was thin enough that Jack could hear them through it and he grinned at their excited, hushed voices. 

“It’s snowing!” 

“It always snows here, Lexi.”

One of the boys gasped, “Look! Look, it’s Jack Frost!”

Jack straightened in shock and turned his wide eyes away from the roof and back to the face of the children, grinning as he did. If there was one thing that Jack would never grow tired of, it was children seeing him. He could hardly contain the burst of shivering joy that shot through him whenever someone said his name, let alone try to suppress it. Pure joy was far and few these days and Jack did everything he could to savor the feeling.

The oldest child scoffed and Jack braced himself. It was alright. Not everyone was going to see him or believe in his existence. Even Jamie used to think that Jack Frost was just an expression.

“No, Jack Frost doesn’t-“ only she gasped when she turned to see the figure her younger brother was pointing at. 

Letting out a gleeful, surprised laugh, Jack gave them a bright smile and a little wave. One of the siblings looked doubtful, as if he was wondering if he should tell their parents that there was a strange teenager in their yard, so Jack used the wind to flip him upside down and up, flicking him up to the roof, defying all laws of physics and gravity as he did so. Their shocked whispers and excited exclamations made the bubbling feeling of mischief and joy spread further. Hanging his head over the roof just enough to peek into the window, he saw the kids searching frantically around their yard and straining to peer upwards. Jack let his staff dangle from the roof and gently, as to not startle or frighten them, tapped the glass. Frost sprouted from the wooden touch and each child stared in wonder as his frost carved out the words, ‘Merry Christmas!’ in his best cursive font. 

The sleigh was taking off again and Jack glanced up only to cast a wistful glance at his newfound believers. It was so strange. To be believed in. A part of him wanted to gather all of his believers together and play with them forever, but another part of him wanted to keep his distance, never lingering long to get attached. Also, kidnapping children was sort of illegal and morally incorrect. So, snowball fights and frosting windows would have to do for now. North wouldn’t wait for him, though he was sure the man had to know of his tail by now, so Jack took to the sky and latched onto the metal curve of the sleigh as the loud boom of the portal opened up and sucked them both through it. 

As they popped into existence over the next state, Pennsylvania now, Jack set to work making a decent blizzard and then shooting down to Burgess. North’s schedule was chaotic and random at times to keep malicious spirits and exxentric spirits off his tail. He heard Santa planned out a completely new map every year. Smart guy. Jack ;however, had friends in high places to help him tail said toy maker, namely being the wind.

Jamie’s window was covered in washable marker, probably because he didn’t have enough room to write everything with his finger. The message was long and nearly incoherent, but Jack was grinning ear to ear as he read it. Jamie was asking about Jack’s Christmas and his favorite gifts but he also managed to sneak in a “ _ Please tell Santa that I’ve been good and that I want a 21430 Dinosaur Fossils Building kit!”  _ Jack didn’t relay the message, but he was sure that Jamie didn’t have to worry. Each of the Guardians were probably going to spoil Jamie rotten while he was a kid, being the last light and believer and all. 

Responding to the message took longer than Jack planned as he frosted out each letter and added some of his signature frost designs to make it look nice. Some of Jamie’s friends had actually written Jack a few messages and some random Burgess kids that apparently Jamie’s friends had shared the knowledge with. The leaves whispered to him each window that was messaged and the names of each kid. Jack’s grin grew so wide that his eyes were beginning to water with the pressure and he could hardly write back coherent messages. Who would have ever thought that Jack Frost would not only have believers but have special messages from each one written on their windows?

His grin only faded when he skipped to the last message on a window, a boy named Sawyer, who asked if Jack could take him away from his father.

_ I don’t mind the cold, honest! I like winter the most, and I love snow ball fights. Jamie said that you can make the best snowballs and that you can fly all around the world! I would love to see the world, but I usually can’t even go outside.  _

It took all Jack had not to scoop up the little sleeping child and take him some place where no one would ever hurt him again. Sawyer didn’t outright tell of his abuse, but he was slouched against the window, resting his bruised cheek on his arms. He didn’t write in erasable markers like Jamie or some of his other friends, but only with his finger in sloppy handwriting. The condensating words were already beginning to seep back into the window surface and become transparent. Probably a smart choice. Jack hesitated in front of his window long enough that he didn’t even notice North was done until he heard the swooshing sound of the portal opening and closing. Jack glanced up at the magical horn-shaped portal and then back down at the sleeping kid, at a loss. 

Jack couldn’t ever do much against abusers, as much as he wanted to. He hated them, more than any other crime. The crime of hurting the ones that you were supposed to love and help. The leaves whispered in his ears of all of Sawyer’s misfortunes, the locks on his door and the creaks in the wood that Sawyer knew how to perfectly avoid. The bills stacking up, crammed in the desk drawer, crumpled by his father’s hand, taken out on a boy who didn’t know how to stop being a burden other than to stop existing. 

He couldn’t take Sawyer with him. Even if he wanted to, Jack wasn’t capable of taking care of a kid and as a spirit, he had a time consuming job to do. Jack had no home, no steady source of food or shelter, but… the others did. Immediately his mind pushed Tooth out of the equation, not because he didn’t trust her! She just… the last time they were in charge of a kid, Tooth managed to have little Sophie screaming and running away. That, and she was busy literally all of the time. Baby Tooth didn’t even have a lot of time to spend time with him. Next to go was Sandy, unfortunately, because the little man was made of, well, sand, and probably didn’t require anything to eat or drink. Jack would trust his life in the hands of Sandy, but maybe not to care for a human child. He had a loving babysitter sort of feel. Mainly Jack’s concern was food and shelter and Sandy’s home was made of sand, wasn’t it? It might be a bit difficult to grow any sort of edible vegetation. North was Jack’s first pick, being mostly all the way human, and- Jack had seen North eating multiple times now. He had space enough to house a child and a support group of yetis if he was overly busy, but North was currently occupied and probably would be cranky and exhausted after his big holiday. Jack needed to do something as soon as possible. The fact that this kid felt the need to reach out to a being he didn’t even know existed spoke levels of his desperate situation. Jack had learned that if you actually listened to kids, they had a lot of important stuff to say. Bunny was, unfortunately, his last option. It wasn’t that he thought the rabbit was incapable; one snowflake and a nudge in the right direction had him practically taking over as Sophie’s caretaker in a surprising display of gentleness and keen observation, as much as Jack hated to admit it. Bunny was good with kids. For all his holler and bark about being some tough outback ranger, Jack was pleasantly surprised to find the opposite when it came to kids. Plus, his Warren was huge and probably had all sorts of fruits and vegetables there. Maybe Bunny could let Sawyer hang around for a little bit until Jack thought of a real solution. Because he knew that realistically speaking, the Guardians couldn’t adopt the kid, or any kids, or all the kids. If they kept Sawyer who’s to say they wouldn’t rescue all of the orphaned and abused kids in the world. That was- Jack leaned against the window- that was a lot of kids, and a lot of responsibility. 

His hand hovered over the frost window, at a loss, before he scanned the sky and bit his lip. North couldn’t have gotten far. He was nearly finished with the states and South America so next he should be heading up to finish the rest of the continent . If he left now, with the wind whispering in his ears, he could catch him.

“I’ll be back,” Jack whispered to the child’s sleeping form, “I promise. I’ll… I’ll figure something out. I promise.” This, he wrote out on Sawyer’s window, just in case he woke up before Jack could come back.

Quietly, he asked the leaves to keep him informed of Sawyer and the crinkled fallen leaves chittered their willing reply. Before he could give into the lingering doubts and hesitation, Jack shot up into the sky, asking the wind to scout out traces of North’s magic. She found him, just on the side of the Canadian border, his jolly laugh bellowing through the blizzard that was furiously pounding the red sleigh. 

“Whoa!” Jack covered his face with his arms to block the sudden violent toss of ice shards to his face, “This isn’t mine. Guess I don’t really need to make this part of the world white, huh?” 

With some difficult maneuvering, Jack managed to find the center of the snow, surprisingly located from the hollow entrance of a cave carved into a mountain. The blizzard was fierce and wild, but it was vulnerable in its crazed state. Only a few snow creatures could feed off the center of winter and manipulate it with their deranged spirit. Dark manipulation was easy and because of its easy magic, it stood no chance against Jack. He didn’t know how he came to understand the winter, but he knew it wasn’t this. Rage and violence. Cold so frigid it blistered anything it touched. Jack’s winter could be completely raw unfiltered power when he wanted to, but it was natural, not something twisted and distorted. Jack never changed the winter, he just nudged it in the right direction or fed his own energy into and let it do with it what it will. He let it be free. These foolish creatures wanted to control the season itself. Jack inhaled sharply, bringing the winter shards into his throat and feeling them tear at the soft tissue there. He didn’t choke as he brought the jagged winter to him, bringing it in and filtering it out using his body as the strainer. The winter was almost black with impurity as it entered him, and Jack wrinkled his nose with the bad taste. The first time he had done this- it hurt like hell, but banishing unwanted blizzards was a part of his routine every twenty years or so. It didn’t take as long as it used to for Jack to purify the winter, soon only the snow at his feet was blackened like soot, and he fixed that remaining leaked magic by playfully tossing it with his staff. As soon as the little black specks were tossed into the air, it was dissolved into the surrounded white snow, overwhelmed by its purity. His throat was a little sore with the fractioned splinters he managed to earn from banishing the blizzard, but overall, he’d say he did a good job. The snow was still falling pretty heavy, but it was light, and since it was directly filtered from Jack, it tended to have more of the ‘happy snowflake’ magic that Jack used. 

Low chuckling, the very sound of breaking icicles and gritted teeth, broke through the clearing and forced lead down Jack's stomach. It was long and drawn out. A mad man’s laugh that built and built with each growing second of silence. 

“Jack ol, Jakey, Jokul Frosti,” The voice trilled and cut itself off with more laughter, “What brings you here, to my humble abode?”

Giving himself a moment to steel himself, Jack cast a wistful glance at the red sleigh crossing the clearing and pressed his lips together to conceal a sigh. The last thing he needed was to deal with a psychopathic immortal Eskimo, but Jack also knew he wasn’t walking away from this one with a bidding tip of his hat. 

He turned, plastering a smile on his face and leaned against his staff in a false gesture of ease, “Buddy! Hey, how you holding up? I would say I like what you’ve done with the place, but I can’t really see it through all this snow.”

“Snow, snow, snow…. so you know that beautiful blizzard of mine-” His bluish ghoul skin seemed translucent with all the white around him. The only thing that Jack could concretely see was the black pit of his eyes and darkened clawed tips of his fingers, “was  _ mine.” _

“Eh,”Jack shrugged and the wind wrapped around his arms and legs like an enraged serpent ready to strike at any moment. She didn’t like it. Or any spirit that tried to mess with the winds and the storms. Spirits and humans were always trying to manipulate the weather, force it and twist it into something they desired, but the wind was nothing that any being could contain or grasp. She was the embodiment of freedom, and her power knew no bounds except the ones that tied her to the planet. Creatures like this were the ones she despised the most, and that anger bled into Jack and leaked into his smile, “I didn’t really like it all that much, so I thought I’d change it.”

“What a funny little thing you are- mahaha,” The creature responded, its fingers twitching, its laugh growing, “I wonder- hahahaha! With your playful smile, if you’d like to play!”

Jack braced himself. Two grins staring each other off. One mad and the other only partially so. Blood was dripping from the cut and stretched smile of the creature known as simply the sound it loved to make the most, ‘Mahaha’. True to its name, the creature’s laugh grew into its high pitched uncontrollable sound, and Jack shuddered to think about the first time he confronted one of these things. Yeah. Do  _ not  _ indulge one of these guys in a tickle fight. The long scar on his stomach testified to that. 

Jack didn’t try to talk his way out, there was no point negotiating with an insane creature that was set on digging his intestines out, but it was almost fun to tease it. If the monsters weren’t so dead set on killing him, he might actually enjoy their conversations, “I see you’ve been working on your evil laugh. Very nice. Really gives me Dr. Doofenshmirtz vibes.”

Truthfully it sounded more like a demonic screech, expeccially with the way it was bounding towards him, claws out, stretching and aiming for his throat. Jack leapt up into the air, avoiding the slicing claw and not wasting a moment to let the wind shoot him off like a rocket in the opposite direction. 

“Jacky, Jacky, come-a back-y!” The Mahaha called through the wind it’s abnormally quick feet pounded against the snow as he gained on Jack. Despite his guat and starved appearances, the creature had no troubles scaling the cliffs that Jack darted between. The one problem with this thing was that once it was set on its prey, it was a hard thing to shake off. It physically could not stop until it got its freakish hands on you. Jack had fought and killed one of them before, but he tried to avoid killing, expeccially if he was trying to accomplish another job. Who knew giving North a white Christmas would be this hard? —Actually— who was he kidding? Trouble followed him wherever he went, expeccially if he was actively trying to do good. 

Jack darted in and out between cliffs and crevices of the mountain, ducking and swerving in every direction to throw it off. Trying to lose him was just the first option, it was always the first option he gave to spirits, but stopping him was his second. There was a ditch, just down the mountain. It was unsteady with loose gravel and rocks so the construction site had moved due to hazardous conditions. If he could just trap the Mahaha down there and then drop some of the mountain on it, surely it would stop pursuing him. 

“Come and play!” Just as he was circling towards the beginning of the construction site, plan in mind, a stabbing pain shot through his throat, as if the splinters of dark ice had grown five times their size. He winced in pain and yelped when he saw the Mahaha inches away from him, “I heard you’ve got ticklish feet!”

“Not the feet!” Jack exclaimed, kicking his legs up in the air in an impromptu somersault and vaulting away. The pain in his throat, for all it hurt, was not physical. The physical ice shards had melted because Jack’s body needed to give off some internal heat to be able to digest food, even if he was physically colder than any human-not-human had any right to be. The magic traces of the Mahaha’s blizzard, however, were still stuck in there. It would take a couple days of Jack eating some freshly fallen snow to fix that up. Apparently, the Mahaha still had some minor influence over his residual energy that he poured into the blizzard and now it was affecting Jack. 

He ducked into a mazelike valley, hiding fast enough and well enough that he had some time to catch his breath before the Mahaha caught a whiff of his scent. It was hard to smell something that was allied with the wind herself. She helped scatter his scent in millions of directions and had been doing so for hundreds of years. Talk about true friendship, huh?

_ Click! _

Oh, no. The Mahaha swiveled it’s head in his direction.

“ _ Frost!” _

Jack swore, scrambling to his feet and darting out of his hiding spot just in time to see those creepy eyes zero in on him. Jack was tempted just to take to the sky and shot across the continent, but the Mahaha were needy creatures and they had tracked him down before. All the way to California.  _ California _ . In the summertime. Jack wasn’t willing to be responsible for all those deaths he indirectly caused again. This time he was going to finish the Mahaha off right- if he could with his annoying ass bracelet buzzing, yet again. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Jack hissed to his bracelet, dodging some vicariously dangling tree branches in the forest he was now coming across. The Mahaha screeched its excitement at seeing Jack and picked up the pace even faster, if that was possible. All the while, Bunny’s voicemail kept rambling on.

_ “I leave ya a nice message, and what do I get? Nothing. Not a stick on a bob. I’ve tried hollering at ya, being nice to ya-“ _

Jack let out a frustrated yell as he furiously tapped at the bracelet- just any way to get it to  _ stop. _ Jack was not about to let himself die because an oversized rabbit decided to ramble at the worst possible time. Was dismissing the message swiping left or right? Apparently, it was  _ not _ swiping right because now Jack had a clearer voice on the other end of the bracelet instead of the  _ click  _ he had been hoping for. 

“Frost? Now ya pick up! ”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jack hissed and dove through a clearing of trees, crashing into some of the jaggad branches as he did so, “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Bunny barked, “Oi! Ya great big gabby, if ya knew-“

“Stick on a bob, shish kebabs,” the Mahah gasped loudly and its voice bubbled with demonic laughter, “Jack-a-bobs! Yes, that sounds wonderful. Tell your friend that he does have wonderful ideas. Maybe invite him for dinner!”

If he could see Bunny, he was sure that his large ears would have flickered with alarm,“Jack?”

Jack hollered, “We’re not having dinner together! And your puns suck- Fuck!”

His mind was reeling a mile per minute, dodging the foliage, avoiding the flesh slicing monster, avoiding the  _ last  _ spirit he wanted to talk to right now, but it was no excuse for his clumsy crash through the trees and the sucker punch that came from a force of one of the thick branches that sent him tumbling down. The branches cut at his face, but Jack could hardly feel them as he saw the impending form of the Mahaha. He gasped, jerking on the frosted floor to avoid the claws that reached for his stomach. One managed to nick his sweatshirt before Jack scrambled up and set a hard kick to its forearm while simultaneously shooting an ice blast from his staff. The aim was a little clumsy during his panic and only encased its shoulder, doing nothing to hold it back. 

“Hold on, Jack,” Bunny’s voice cut through the speaker, “I’m coming.”

Jack said, “No, wait, Bunny, don’t-“

The creature cackled, swiping his beastly claw towards his face, Jack barely dodged the fast strike as it swiped across his nose, drawing blue blood, “Mmm. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to tear open the Easter Bunny. Bunny stew.”

His lip curled up in a revolted snarl as the Mahaha dipped it’s blood stained claw into its mouth. “Well, you won’t find out,” Jack hissed, tiring quickly of this game it liked to play. 

Option two was thrown out of the window and now it was time to stop pulling punches. Maybe if Bunny hadn’t called, Jack would have been able to surprise attack it, but with that went out the window too. He supposed he would have to settle for punching this bastard directly in the face. And he did so. The punch was satisfying and easy. It was made of staved bone and ice, and Jack was afraid, but he was also angry. He had dealt with these kinds of things before, been in sticky situations multiple times,  _ and  _ gotten out of them all by himself. Bunny just called at a bad time, that was all. The Mahah struck back, quick and powerful, but Jack dodged each swipe of his claws and retaliated with his ice and a kick of his own. It was harder for him to fight in a dense area like this and Jack narrowly ducked as its claws sliced through the thick bark of a tree like it was soft tissue. Unconsciously, Jack tripled a layer of frost over his body, knowing that it really wouldn’t help if he got under those claws. One fatal strike and he would most definitely bleed out, that is if he wasn’t dead by the fifth hack at his torso by those deadly claws. The last time he had been lucky and naive, but this time Jack would bring the Mahaha on his own turf. He darted up into the sky and dragged the creature with him. He received a happy shriek in reply to his silent plea for help and the wind happily flung him into the mountain. It’s body was indented on the surface, and it slumped down, almost in defeat. 

“I know you’re bluffing,” Jack called, shooting ensnaring ice around its fallen form, “I’m not taking any chances-“

He gasped, his words cut off from the rippling pain that tore through them, as if fifty needles were puncturing the soft tissue of his throat from the inside and pushing out. It spread from there, sprouting into his stomach and needling its way through each individual pore in his lungs. He dropped to the ground, gasping and shaking with the sudden intense pain of it all, so thought consuming that Jack could scarcely form a thought, let alone move when he saw the blurred form of the Mahaha breaking the ice and making its way towards Jack. It’s clawed tips were deceptively gentle as cupped his jaw and tested the skin around his neck. The small puncture the tips of his claws made were nothing compared to the black ice stabbing his insides. 

“I think ya got the wrong dinner reservation,” A voice Jack was almost happy to hear declared, “See, you’re not invited.”

His voice was darker than Jack had ever heard it, growling like he had back in the workshop, so angry about something Jack said, something he could barely remember now. It was okay though, because now Jack didn’t have to worry about being torn open again. Bunny was here. He didn’t even have enough energy to muster up some scraps of pride and be bitter about it. For right now, Jack focused on breathing. In and out. In and out. He was sweating, an odd thing for a winter spirit, and his body convulsed with cold every studding breath. Pins and needles. Pins and needles, oh how he hated pins and needles. 

And then, the delirious pain was gone so quickly that Jack gasped in relief and sagged against the snowy pine straw he had fallen against. 

“Frost?” Bunny called. Jack only answered with a pained noise and rolled over, “Ya alright?”

It was by a miracle of the gods that Jack managed to sit-up and wave his hand in response, “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Ya don’t  _ look  _ fine,” Bunny said gruffly, glaring down at Jack with an expression that surely couldn’t be anger, could it?

Jack didn’t have enough energy to deduce what it was so he gave him a shrug and said, “Well, I guess that’s what I get for banishing an evil blizzard summoned by a Mahaha. A sore throat and a couple of scratches. Did you get it?”

“Banishing a blizzard?” Bunny’s arms were still crossed and Jack’s answer seemed to make him even more tense, “How’d ya manage that?” 

Jack sighed as he stood, “Look, did you get it or not? If not, point me in the direction it went so I can bury it in the mountain.”

“I took care of it,” At Jack’s incredulous raised eyebrow, Bunny revised, “It’s dead. It’s body was brittle as bacon and I’m a spring spirit, remember?” He looked away, at some point in the distance, “But I wasn’t going to interfere until I saw you collapse like that. What happened?”

With a sly grin Jack said, “Oh, you weren’t going to interfere were you? Just like you said you weren’t going to rush over if I answered your voicemails?”

He jerked an arm towards the bleeding cut on his face, “It said it was going to eat ya, mate! Course’ I rushed over. If ya didn’t want me help then ya shouldn’t have collapsed in front of it like that!”

“Hey,  _ you  _ try filtering an evil blizzard through your body and then tell me how you feel!”

“I’m sorry, wot?” Bunny jerked and actually surged forwards to grab Jack’s hands, “Ya filtered dark magic  _ through  _ your body? Why the bleeding cranberries would you do that?”

He was inspecting his hands intently, probably searching from some residual black magic on the tips of them, but Jack’s hands were clean as he tugged them away from the soft, silky touch of Bunny’s furred hands. He tucked them into his armpits, trying to ignore the slight tingling in his hands from the touch and wrinkled his nose, “Well, how else would I do it? It goes in bad, and it comes out good. No big deal. Sure, it kinda aches for awhile, but normally it ends there. I had no idea he would be able to, like, manipulate pieces of it still that were in my system.”

“Hold on a tic,” Bunny took a step back, “You’re saying you can draw in corrupted magic and  _ incorrupt  _ it, just like that? With no lingering side effects? Mate, anyone who tries that usually can only do it a couple times before their core is blackened. I don’t know anyone who can do that with their core still intact like yours is. Your core is fine.”

“Like my ‘fun core’? You can see that stuff?” Jack only asked because that would be super helpful, seeing the goodness or evil contents of one ones core. Maybe then it would ease his conscience when he had to kill corrupted creatures. Sometimes he tried to save them and what good they had left, but it was hard to gauge, expeccially with the tricksters. 

A flash of terrible alarm crossed Bunny’s features and he backed up even further, “No. It’s just- just a Guardian thing. I can’t see anything.”

Jack quirked a brow, “Anything? Didn’t know you were blind as a bat, Bunny.”

His signature scowl was back and Jack couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why he counted that as a good thing, “‘S not what I meant.”

“Right,” Jack said, counting his dismissal as a win and clasping his hands together, “Well, this had been fun. Thanks for your help and all, though I really didn’t need it-“

“You were on the floor!”

“- but I am glad I’m not somebody's chopped liver meal again. So, since my core that you can ‘not-see’ is all fine, and I’m practically as good as new, I’ll be going!”Jack said with a chipper contrasting to the slight damp expression on Bunny’s face. 

He was clenching his jaw, a tight exhale slipping through before he said, “You’re bleeding.”

“What? This?” Jack gestured to his nose and quickly froze over the slice of blood that peeked out of his skin, “This is nothing. If anything, it will be a pretty cool little scar. It’s not deep enough to need stitches.”

His eyebrows creased, “I’d like to see what ‘deep enough to need stitches’ is in your book.”

“Not this,” Jack said dismissively and turned to scan the sky for his next destination. 

“Alright, then you haven’t responded to any of the Guardians in days,” Bunny countered, tilting his head up as if he needed to assert his six-foot height to Jack. 

Jack let out a deep, deep, soul-filled sigh of annoyance and bit, “Because I didn’t feel like it, alright.”

Bunny frowned, “Why’d ya answer now then?”

“It was an accident,”Jack said, “It was actually the worst timing possible, so even if I was going to call back, it wouldn’t have been when I was trying to surprise attack the Mahaha.”

The tips of Bunny’s lips lifted ever so slightly before falling back down, “The wot?”

Jack exasperated, “The Mahaha. It’s called that because that's the last thing people hear before they’re tickled to death- wait you think that’s funny?”

Bunny concealed his smile with a frown that tried it’s hardest to be nonchalant, “Not on yer nilly. Just tryna see if the- that creature was more dangerous than the one you had to leave the Chrissie party for.”

“I wasn’t in danger.”

“So that was a lie,” Bunny said with a casual confidence that had Jack hissing.

“I handled it,” Jack revised, “I didn’t need your help.”

He was not about to reveal to the most fervent hater of winter that he was unable to stop said winter from being dangerous enough to drown someone and how Jack himself nearly drowned in his own element. Bunny already thought Jack was some helpless spirit that collapsed in front of dangerous creatures.

“Ya did today.”

Jack scoffed, “You know what? I revoke my thanks. And my apology. And every nice thing I’ve ever said about you.”

“What nice things?” Bunny shot back.

“Yeah, you’d be surprised,” Jack and wrinkled his nose when it didn’t come out as mean as he wanted it to, “Whatever.” 

Bunny said, “Real mature.”

In retaliation, Jack stuck out his tongue very childishly and lifted a few feet off the ground to give Bunny a mock salute and take off into the atmosphere after North, laughing that irritable laugh Jack knew would get on his nerves. He heard him call out, probably Jack’s name, but the wind swallowed it up so Jack couldn’t hear it. 

* * *

North had finished early, therefore, Jack had finished icing the globe in a white out. In areas that never, ever, under absolutely no circumstances snowed, Jack just allowed some clouds to gather up in the atmosphere and made it chilly where North flew. It was mostly for North anyway. A sign of gratitude and a sort of challenge for himself. As for the places where snowing was a rarity, Jack made it snow anyway, even in the wrong season. It sort of strained his powers and he was sure he’d have some angry spirits after him, but it was only for 24 hours, at max. 

But right now he had something else to worry about chasing him. 

“Yeeeee haw!” North shouted, happy as ever. It was just before dawn when the world was still dark, in America, of all places. North had already delivered to America and as soon as Jack saw his sleigh rounding around to chase after Jack, he bolted. He was hiding now, zipping through the most rural place he could find in Oregon. 

This was the first time Jack could confidently say that he was enjoying being chased. As he heard the echoing jiggle of the bells, Jack was laughing along with North and darting in between the trees. 

“Jack!” North called, as if calling for him would make Jack give up the chase. As if. 

Jack grinned, huffing out a cold breath of exertion before spotting the oldest looking abandoned cabin he had ever seen. It was on the scale of a small mansion and absolutely deserted. There wasn’t even a road or path that led from it- just a mansion smack dab in the middle of the mountainous forest. Jack darted through the open attic where the roof was caving in and hid underneath some snow coated beams. As he heard North’s sleigh approach, slowing down by the sound of the puffing reindeer, Jack hid his breath, like a child playing hide and seek. Two boots, big and powerful and probably close to going through the weakened roof, stomped closer to Jack. He was discovered, he was sure of it, but the apprehension had Jack grinning stupidly. Only, North set a small brown sack down in the clearing and huffed a sound of contentment instead.

In that Russian drawl of his, North said, “Merry Christmas, Jack,” and simply left. 

He stayed, crouched in the corner of that open cobwebbed attic for some time, listening to the sound of his own breathing before he drifted out and approached the bag. Jack had never gotten a Christmas gift before. Not before in his memories. Not in the magical, Santa dropping it down from the roof way at least. When he peeked inside the sack, he found all of the gifts that the Guardians have given him, including his family's memories and the cheap bunny ears. 

Jack sifted through the gifts again, counting them and inspecting each thoroughly. The magical little hum from each of the tooth boxes, the mechanical click of the camera lense, the soft hiss of the snowflakes inside the snow globe, the rippling sound of Jack running his fingers across the fabric of the pillow inside its pillow case. North had also hazardously thrown in a few pieces of chocolate, decorated with authentically red wrapping paper- not any depiction of Santa Claus whatsoever. Jack stashed his belongings in that small corner he hid in, sprinkling devoted leaves around it to guard them. It also wasn’t hard to rim the perimeter with his very own snow energy. It was different, marking a place as his own. Jack was always wandering, never staying in a place long enough to feel a sense of attachment with it, but he never had belongings that needed a home either. He was sure no one would miss this old abandoned house that was the home of birds in the summer and foxes in the winter. He was careful to not disturb the sleeping foxes, but they roused anyway, sensing his magic and leaving on their own will. It was for that night that he stayed in that house, up in the opened attic and slept with a pillow of his very own for the first time in three hundred years. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Arivum Pooka: The Meadow Pooka. Living in the Savannah/grasslands area of their world. On this planet, their crops grow the best in this climate and the majority are farmers and harvesters. Stay on the surface of the planet.
> 
> Nixava Pooka: The Snow Pooka. Living in the mountainous, forest area of their world. Physically stronger, taller. Fanged and usually six armed. They have large padded feet. Their fur resembles their climate of snow and is white and very thick.
> 
> Cuniculus Pooka: The Burrow Pooka. Living underneath the ground in tunnels and burrows. Close to the center of Lepus and charged with guarding Lepus. (More will be released in later chapters)
> 
> Ahua/Kahua- Aster’s and Hani’s Doa and Eamon’s Doe. Part Arivum Pooka and Nixava Pooka  
> Eamon/Amon- Aster’s and Hani’s Buca and Ahua’s Buck. Arivum Pooka  
> Hani/Khani- Aster’s brother and twin light. Arivum and Nixava Pooka  
> Kheamha- Ahua’s Buca. Aster and Hani’s grandbuca. She/her pronouns. Nixava Pooka  
> Keloi- Aster and Hani’s older sibling. Eamon and Ahua’s first born. Arivum and Nixava Pooka. Switching pronouns.
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience
> 
> ~
> 
> When someone’s reality is different from the majority’s— that person is labeled insane. In the future, Aster’s alittle touchy about it- “ I can’t see anything!!” but for good cause I think. There’s more to his sight in future chapters and I can’t wait to share them! Wonder how he’s going to use it in the future, huh?
> 
> I also love writing Bunny because he’s Australiain, but he’s also as old as time so he can make up whatever the heck slang he wants- which means /I/ can make up whatever the heck slang I want. On Lepus I also have to (I don’t have to) make up curses because their slang is different from human slang. Moral of the story- making up slang is both fun and super duper hard. My friend told me to just use ice cream flavors as curses, but ice cream hasn’t been invented yet- chocolate hasn’t even been invented yet! So that’s out. But Jack can curse, and he does, very often. 
> 
> The Mahaha is a legit mythological being who lives up in Alaska/canada area and likes to have tickle fights with ppl, only- they have extremely sharp claws that kill people when they tickle them. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! Drop a comment if you have anything to say!


	12. And this is a stone we throw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some hard lessons learned, hard things to see, hard things to fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of abuse and gruesome death. Well idk if it’s gruesome. Some of you guys are crazy on here. (Shout out to my best friend who watched horror movies as a child) . Anyway. I’d thought I’d put a warning in there. 
> 
> Also! Sorry for the lack of updates! I recently fell into a another fandom and wasn’t feeling the best emotionally, so a mini hiatus. Hopefully I can get back on schedule. I’m thinking of uploading ever other week to give myself a little more time to write.   
> Thank you guys for being patient and for reading! Every comment is absolutely beautiful.

**945 CYCL BMiM**

**Aster Bunnymund age: 55 CYCL**

The first time Aster used his light for ‘good’ he was scared. 

They bounced out the burrow in a single file line, but the line was quick moving with kits bursting with happy energy, so Aster didn’t mind so much. After they practiced their morning self defense and history, the instructor allowed them to take frequent breaks. Pookan kits were restless after all and could hardly sit still for a long period of time. Aster was getting better about controlling his need to wiggle in seat, but this restless energy built up inside him everytime Aster felt they weren’t learning anything he needed to know. They moved at a slow pace, taking their time to make sure each individual kit understood the concept before they moved onto the next. It just so happened that Aster learned and understood the topic much faster than any of his peers and found himself itching when it became repetitive and boring. 

Breathing in the scent of their bladed grass and dirt, Aster sighed and set about his new task. When the school tasks became boring and useless, Aster created personal tasks for himself to master. One including running through time, as always. No kit questioned him about his habit to race circles around the small fenced area that was lined with adult Pooka’s guarding, and it reduced his chances of being approached by some kit feeling the need to bring up that fact that Aster saw fake lights and was absolutely out of his mind. 

“Are you going to run today?” Hani asked.

“Yup!” Aster tested the dirt beneath his paws and crouched into the position Buca showed him. He hoped Buca was watching. Most adults liked to watch the kits play and run around, and sometimes they even waved and offered an encouraging yell to their excited kits. The instructors told them it was important for their parents to keep watch and not play with them, which was Aster’s least favorite rule. What better way to protect them than to play and wrestle with them? If they allowed Buca to race with Aster then Buca would be watching him and keeping an eye out for dangers too.

Hani grinned at him, “Okay! I’m going to play with Allus today. You can join if, if you want.”

“No thanks,”Aster said and smiled to make sure his brother knew Aster didn’t mind. Just because Aster didn’t have any friends, didn’t mean Hani didn’t need them. Friends were loud and their lights lied, so Aster found he only liked to talk to Pooka who had truthful lights. 

With a call of, “Buca! Watch me!” Aster started hopping, shooting through the grass and zipping in zigzagged patterns with the new strength he was gaining bit by bit, inch by inch. Behind him, Aster could sense the green and blue light perk up and focus on his direction. His Buca’s ears flicked up, delighted, and Aster grinned and ran a little faster. As he ran, Aster passed the group of kits that were sitting in a circle near the edge of the fence. They were close to Allus’s father who had a nice smile and light blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled at his kit and a pretty core of-

Aster stopped, heart leaping up to his throat, and his paws skidded in the dirt and shoved blades of grass up between his toes. He gasped loudly, and Hani turned to Aster in surprise. He met the eyes of Allus’s Buca, blue and sparkling and oddly placed on his face. As if they were shiny marbles placed in his sockets instead of eyes. But the shiny marbles of blue and the smile upon his face did not match the empty void in his chest of black and darkness. 

“Aster?” Hani asked as two black, claw tipped hands reached out towards him tried to swallow him in his darkness. 

The two hands were growing and their black emptiness was more than just the absence of light, but a vacuum of light. It seemed to swallow up the light around it and drain the pure flickering light of the two unaware Pookan guards standing beside it. Hani was there, eyes wide and innocent and the claws started to close around him. 

Allus’s Buca met Aster’s eyes and smiled, blue marbled eyes crinkling in a carefree and gentle expression, but his aura was dark and leeching. Usually the light in their cores matched the color of their eyes. Aster once heard Doa tell him that ‘eyes were the windows to the soul’ and Aster knew that for a fact. Although this creature sported brilliant blue eyes, the darkness creeped out and colored his white pupils black as if infecting the eyes themselves with his darkness.

It was then that Aster knew that the lights didn’t lie. The creature’s did. It was confusing to see the lights behave in one way, flickering and wilting in their cores, and then see them act or say something completely different. Automatically, Aster caved into the judgemental scowls on their faces and the doubt in their voices and assumed that there must be something wrong with him and his sight. 

But seeing the sparkling blue eyes shift down to the unaware kits playing at his feet, landing on Hani’s turned back, and hanging his claws to hover over his head- Aster knew his sight wasn’t tricking him but the creature was. It couldn't-  _ it couldn’t have him _ . It couldn’t have Hani’s white light. Not their twin light that glowed the same and built up with the other. 

As if he had bended time to his will, Aster shot forwards and tackled Hani to the ground just as the claws closed around the empty air. He scrambled up and tugged at Hani’s hand insistently, pushing him away from the lightless Pooka, clawing at the dirt in panic and inhaled, screaming the loudest noise he had ever made, “Anguish! It’s an Anguish!”

His cry of alarm jolted through every core like lightning and each adult jerked towards the now snarling creature. It got ahold of Allus, the intended prey of them all and Aster screamed the Anguish brought her up to his extended and gaping jaw.

There were six or seven Pooka gripping the Anguish and its corrupted shape. Half Pooka, half monster, it stood on two legs but sprouted more arms to hold back the attackers. It’s jaw snapped and opened as wide as a Tiliter could extend its mouth to eat its prey, and it’s fangs dripped saliva and blood. The shouting and snarling fell deaf to his pinned ears as he gripped Hani and scrambled backwards. Some adults pushed him away and scooped up crying kits, but Aster stayed pinned, glued to the sight that mirrored his own experience. 

_ The Anguish find every kit.  _ Buca had said that night. Something he wasn’t supposed to hear. Now Buca was halfway across the field, his form crouched just as he was about to run through time to cross the distance.

_ No,  _ Aster thought as Allus screamed at the sight of her Buca as a monster that gripped her by the neck, suffocating her just as Aster had been suffocated.

“No,”Aster whispered, bringing his hands up to his own neck and silently pleading with the ad _ ults to do something,  _ to break its hands or close its gapping waiting mouth. It didn’t matter if Allus teased him for seeing the lights or scoffed when Aster defended himself. It didn’t matter. She was scared, her blue brilliant light that was supposed to match her Buca’s light was scared. 

Buca shouted, “With light and hope I banish thee Anguish!” But it was too late. His time was too late. The claws closed around her neck and a  _ snap  _ cut through them all as his grip tightened definitively. 

“ _ No! _ ” Aster cried as the light in her core froze. It stopped crackling and moving and spreading. It just stopped. And then it was swallowed as Anguish tossed her broken body down his neck, and the light dissolved in his stomach. The Anguish had already been stabbed. It was bleeding out and dying in front of them, it was dead,  _ it shouldn’t move.  _ But it did. It fulfilled it’s only purpose and swallowed the kit of the Buca it had taken the face of.

It was the first time he had seen a light die. 

It wouldn’t be the last.

* * *

  
  


They later learned that Allus’s Buca was dead too. Neck snapped in the same fashion his daughter’s was, but his eyes were clawed out.

The Anguish killed him, but first it took his eyes. 

* * *

  
  


Do good with his sight.

That’s what Doa said. 

But Aster wasn’t a hero and he wasn't rewarded as one. All he did was shout, too late, and save one kit. The kit he saved was the most precious and important kit of them all to him, but Aster didn’t want Allus to die. He didn’t want anything to die. Buca had scooped them up, blood on his shirt, blood on his sword. Aster didn’t know Buca had a sword. Blood on everything. Blood on him. Red everywhere and red wilting in the form of a little light in the corner crying at the death of his sister of another Buca. Aster sobbed into Buca’s shirt, in a spot that was only slightly patterned with blood splatters and met the eyes of Hani. Open and spilling freely, but wide and hollow. Shocked. That could have been him. That could have been Hani’s blood. Hani’s light. Aster sobbed loud and closed his eyes, trying to drown in the green and white light of his kin to block out the guilt and the  _ relief  _ that was bubbling up in him. Because Aster never wanted to see another light die but he was so relieved that it wasn’t Hani’s that he watched. 

* * *

Aster checked every guard now. He didn’t need to do much, just take a moment to close his eyes and scan each parent tightly packed next to the other. Aster didn’t look at their eyes now. He knew the Anguish had grown smarter than the ones in the childhood tale Doa had told them growing up. Now the only thing Aster could rely on was his light. Because his light didn’t lie. They did. He searched for vacuums of light everyday and kept his sights tuned into any additional darkness. The world was naturally dark in the sight he used to see the lights. The background was a soft darkness. The type of darkness that mingled with the shadows of a sleepy burrow. t

The morning sun as the light chased the shadows away. The type of darkness that was only dark so you could see the light better. But the Anguish’s darkness  _ moved  _ in a way that the normal background did not. It sucked in the lights around it like a vacuum, a black hole. Aster closed his eyes and strained his senses as far as they could go, but he saw nothing. 

“Go on, Aster,” Buca gently nudged him forwards, “Don’t worry.”

A flare of anger shot up like a beacon and Aster turned to see Cacue glaring at him. He had seen Aster closing his eyes, tilting his head to the sides as if he were seeing some imaginary thing that was very much real, but to Cacue it was just more evidence of his lunacy and of his failure to use his sight in a way that really mattered. 

“What do you think that will do, huh?” Cacue barked once they were inside the classroom, “You think closing your eyes and seeing some fake lights is going to help you find the Anguish? You must be searching for him cuz he’s your buddy right? Stealing light and eating children. Kinda like your other friend the Pirate King.”

“Hey! Don’t say that about him,” Hani stood in front of him, “Aster did help. He’s the one who saw the Anguish first!”

“Yeah? Lotta good  _ that  _ did for Allus,” Cacue barked, but his voice caught on his sister's name.

Aster looked at him, wide, hurt eyes, and he just wished Cacue would talk to him instead of blame him for things. He could see the pain in his core. It was right there! he was just sad, and scared, and alone, but so was Aster! What gave him the right to lash out and hurt him? Why did Aster have to be considerate and listen to his light when Cacue didn’t listen or care about his? 

So Aster said nothing. Not knowing whether to defend himself or apologize or yell. Hani spoke up for him, “That’s not fair. You can’t-”

“Oh shut up, tuffer!” Cacue interrupted, calling Hani by the nickname attached to energetic kits who moved during the Sun Ceremony and messed up the tattoo ink on their fur. 

Aster mumbled, “Don’t call him that.”

“What? That’s what he is. His ink’s all messed up,” Cacue pointed at the smeared sun on his forehead and smirked at the flinch that Hani made, “Oh wait. I remember now. You pushed him in the river so he was all wet for his Sun Day. I guess he’s not a tuffer but another victim of  _ you.” _

“That’s not true!” Hani protested, but it was weaker. He didn’t want to say that he fell in, unable to swim and unable to save himself. Aster didn’t want to tell the truth either, because it was his fault, wasn’t it? Forcing his brother to complete a task he was uncertain of, leading them into one of the most dangerous areas in the meadow, doing nothing as Hani drowned. 

Cacue raised his eyebrows and chin, smugly looking down on them and scoffed. It seemed like he said all the words he needed to pierce their lights and build up his own. 

Aster glared at the crackling fire of his core that glowed only with the dimming of others

  
  


* * *

####  **December 25th, Christmas Day, 2012**

  
  
  


“...Bunny?”

“Ya must be daft to call me this early in the morning after leaving me stranded in Canada,” Came the grumpy reply.

“You can literally make magic tunnels by tapping your foot,” Jack retorted, “Do you really think that I would call you without a good reason?” 

He could almost visually see Bunny shrugging his shoulders, “Dunno Frost, ya seem like the type to make prank calls.” 

“Probably,” Jack said offhandedly, “No one’s given me this much freedom with a communication device before- but I actually did call for a reason.” 

“Which is?” He gave Jack a drawn out sigh. 

“I…” Jack hesitated. There was a big chance of Bunny blowing him off. He was willing to fight off some winter demon and nightmare king but what if he didn’t think this was important? And, as always, Bunny held himself on some higher egocentric shelf which automatically placed Jack lower than him. Jack had never seen the Guardians protecting humans from  _ humans  _ before. They probably hadn’t even seen a child in a couple of decades if their reaction to Sophie was anything to go by, let alone know about the problems they deal with. Jack was pretty sure he heard Bunny mutter about the annoyance of ‘human affairs” before, but that was it.

He snapped, “Well, are ya gonna tell me what it is or are ya gonna leave me on the line all day?” 

“A kid needs help,” Jack blurted, “He asked me to help him but I-“

God, he hated this. 

“I can’t,” Jack grit out, “I’m- I’m not...qualified. Or whatever. To help him.”

This got his attention, “He’s in danger?” 

“Yeah, but not from anything I can fight. Adults can’t see me so I can’t, physically, fight off his dad, as much as I would like to. Might freeze his coffee solid though,” Jack trailed off at the end debating how he could make Sawyer’s dad’s life as inconvenient as possible.

“His… the kid’s being abused?” 

Jack nodded even though Bunny couldn’t see him, “Yeah, Sawyer, he wrote me a message on his window, asking me if I could take him away from his home, but I can’t- I can’t take care of a kid like that. I don’t know what to do. But I have to do something. I can’t just leave him there where he’s not even allowed outside to play in the snow. I mean- what kind of monster doesn’t let their kid play outside?” 

“You're asking the wrong spirit,” Bunny said and of course,  _ of course,  _ how stupid was he to ask  _ Bunny  _ out of all the guardians for help. Damn it, Ben tooth with her bloody gums and all would be more willing. 

His hope deflated and, in an instant, was replaced with wounded pride and flaring anger, “So you won’t help?”

Jack scoffed once and a sneer curled onto his face,”You won’t even- you know what, fine. I don’t why I thought-“

“Thought what?” Bunny cut him off, “You didn’t let me finish, mate! North’s the guy you want to go to. He gets letters all the time of kids asking for escapes or new parents. He knows someone involved with the human world who can legally shift some things around to help the kid out. I usually go to him if I spot anything, but I haven’t gotten involved in years. 

“Oh.”

“My methods...ah,” Bunny trailed on, “not wot you’re looking for. A little more aggressive than frosting over coffee.”

“So, what, you used to help kids out but don’t anymore?” Jack asked.

Bunny bit, “My methods weren’t exactly  _ legal _ . ‘Sides I can’t physically do any more than you can. Adults don’t believe in me anymore either. If I’m going to do something might as well be me doing it. I don’ like sending others to do me job.” 

“Oh,” Jack said, digesting the information, “Did you kill them?”

Holding his breath, Jack wasn’t even sure why he asked a question he didn’t want the answer to. He believed in justice but killing always crossed the line for him. Knowing Bunny, though, the rabbit that  _ nearly  _ killed him for creating a blizzard, it wasn’t all that surprising. Then again, this conversation was not at all like anything he had envisioned. No doubt that Jack rehearsed this conversation twenty times over in his head before he actually called Bunny. 

Bunny laughed, surprised at the blunt question, “Eh, I roughed ‘em up a tad. Usually took in the sport when my responsibilities were few and far inbetween those days.” 

Now the first part, Jack could believe. Bunny having extreme morals to the point that he would beat up any child abuser or criminal was something that Jack easily believed. But kidnapping children? Jack balked, “ _ You  _ had kids?” 

“Not exactly,” Bunny sounded defensive and a tad uncomfortable, “I just took them in. Sort of mentored them until they were old enough to go their own. No one called me their  _ dad _ or anything.” He sounded offended at the thought and Jack tried to picture it. A fatherly Bunny. Yeah, no, he couldn’t. Maybe a doting uncle or cousin, but father? Ridiculous. But Jack didn’t exactly need a perfect parental figure to solve his problem...

“Huh,” Jack said, “So, if I asked if you could watch Sawyer for a couple of days until North’s friend got around to him…”

What sounded like a head banging against a table echoed through the speakers of the bracelet as Bunny groaned, “Why me, of all the Guardians?”

“Oh you mean besides the fact you just admitted you kidnapped children to give them better lives?” 

“I didn’t-!” Bunny hollered, “They came on their own free will! I didn’t force them none.” 

“Exactly.” 

“And it wasn’t like it was just me,” Bunny muttered quietly, “Had a whole… group to look out fer ‘em.”

“Right,” said Jack.

He sighed, “Why don’t you take care of the little ankle biter for a few days?”

Jack shrugged, “Lots of reasons.”  _ I’m immature, irresponsible, too wrapped up in my own self loathing to see if I’m doing a good job protecting and taking care of the kid, literally as cold as ice, currently homeless and regularly fishes food out of dumpsters,  _ “But mostly because you have a garden and I don’t.” 

“What’s that got to-? Oh. Food and such,” Bunny sighed again, but it sounded more willing than the last sigh, “Let me think about it.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I ain’t agreed to anything yet!” He hastily added, “And I’m not doing it alone! This was your mess first.”

“So, party in the warren? Can I invite Jamie and Sophie?” 

Bunny said, “Crikey, Frost, you’re forgetting about an important det.”

“A what?” 

“A detail. An important detail. We can’t just kidnap Sawyer. Not in these days at least. Much as I’m willing to protect a kid for a few days in me warren, how about you play with him tommorah, and I’ll talk to North’s friend and see what we can do?” Bunny offered and Jack absolutely did not feel disappointed, no he did not.

Just- the prospect of seeing the warren was so exciting. Maybe, without the impending doom of Pitch on their tails, Jack could properly explore the place. He heard rumors about it throughout the years from other spring spirits. Like how it stretched across the whole continent of Australia, or how no one had been able to sneak into it, ever, (besides Pitch). The Guardians homes were the only places on Earth where Jack hadn’t thoroughly explored. He had found ruins of lost civilizations before the explorers did and knew the ins and outs of every natural sight to see. He even snuck inside a pyramid once. 

“Alright,” Jack said.

“Alright?” Bunny double checked, and Jack hummed, “I’ll see what I can do.” 

Before Jack could work up to say anything else, Bunny clicked off and the silence was all he was left with. 

“I didn’t want to hang out with him,” Jack muttered.

_ Sure you didn’t,  _ Twiner said sympathetically.

Jack protested, “I didn’t. He’s a jerk.”

_ Just a jerk that saved your life yesterday and is really sweet with kids,  _ Twiner commented offhandled, mentally bringing up last Easter to Jack’s mind. The startled softening of his features as the snowflake settled on his nose, the playful way he let Sophie ride on his shoulders, laughing as he ran through the colorful meadow. 

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Jack physically waved his hands as if it would dismiss the images in his head, “What- what are you trying to say anyway?”

Twiner remediated,  _ No, he is uncharacteristically rude to you, but I think you two could be friends.  _

“Psh,” Jack refuted as it tapped Twiner on the tops of the branches of the tree he was lounging in, “He  _ is  _ rude. He’s an asshole”

_ But maybe…? _

“Maybe,”Jack said, not willing to voice the rest of the thought out loud. This seemed to satisfy his staff and Jack allowed himself to relax on the tree. It was an Oak tree, his favorite kind, and its bark was smooth under his fingertips, and the branches were spread wide and comfortable to lounge on. Unlike the trees Jack crashed through while fighting the Mahaha whose branches were sharp and thick and the bark was prickly to touch along with the pine needles. Those trees didn’t really have any leaves and the leaves never fell, so he preferred to stay away from areas with no leaves. No leaves, no communication. 

The sun was peeking through on the horizon, but the moon lingered to watch the rising kids stomp down the stairs excitedly. Jack’s chest blossomed with all the joy springing from the excitement of Christmas, and he sighed with contentment. Usually Christmas morning was bittersweet. As he watched the kids babble on about how excited they were about their new gift and the parents tiredly rub their eyes when the kids weren’t looking, Jack tried to feel the happy spirit, but it was dampening by the realization that he would never have that. Only, this year, Jack let the joy infuse into him, drowning out all of the bitter resentment and longing that piled over the years. He may not have  _ that  _ specifically, but he celebrated his first Christmas ever with the Guardians. It wasn’t, by all means, perfect, and Jack got into more little scuffles and dramatics than he wanted to, but it was fun, wasn’t it? The Guardians didn’t reject him, or his gifts, they laughed with him and shared with him and even gave him special gifts of their own. Before he hardly ever let the joy spill over, he could barely feel it most days, but now he could bask in it. 

He flew to Burgess, drifting over the long and deep clouds that sliced through the atmosphere like uneven slips of paper. He took his time, knowing that the children were probably still opening presents, and peeked through some of the windows, grinning at the different Christmas Traditions he saw there. A camera set up to watch the kids run down the hall, the sweet aroma of ginger bread wafting through the kitchen, a war of wrapping paper and trash. Jack frosted the tips of the windows to Jamie’s living room, leaving some of his best and most exuberant frosted designs so Jamie would know he stopped by. He drifted closer to Sawyer’s house, and the hushed whispering of leaves lowered his spirits enough until he gently touched down on the ground. 

_ He’s three years younger than Jamie but they let him play whenever he comes out.  _

_ He doesn’t come out often,  _ another leaf chimed in,  _ his father doesn’t like him tracking in mud and snow.  _

_ He doesn’t like him playing with toys. They make a mess and he hates messes.  _

Jack peeked through the window, seeing the perfect Christmas tree that was decorated simplistically, like the interior decorations of the house itself. The walls and furniture were white and pristine, not a speck of dirt in the white mansion. The house, in fact, hardly looked lived in. They were eating at the table, Sawyer’s little socked feet not touching the ground as he sat in the tall chair at the tall table. There was one present under the tree, for Sawyer and it was so perfectly wrapped, Jack automatically knew it was from North. It was part of the magic North cast over the world that allowed the present to be there, that allowed the parents to think they had bought the present themselves. Sawyer was vibrating from excitement and kept sneaking glances to the present under the tree. 

“Finish your food,” His dad said, dismissive and focused on his phone in his hand.

This seemed to imply that if Sawyer finished his food, he would be able to open his present, so Sawyer lapped up his oatmeal at a quicker speed, swallowing down gulps full. One spoonful missed his mouth by a hair and dribbled down onto the white tablecloth, sticking to it instantly. Sawyer froze. 

“I’m sorr-“

“You spilled? Again? Are you kidding me-,” His voice was not a shout, but it held the weight of repeated anger. The kind of anger that you know, the kind that is built on layers and layers of years and years of petty grievances and small annoyances that mount like the scatter report cards neatly piled on the counter and the stacks of unpaid overdue bills stuffed into the nearest drawer.

“I didn’t mean-“

“How many times have I asked you to be careful?”

Careful of the china glasses on the highest shelf, collecting dust like the ashes of his mother’s scattered across the world. Careful of the thin line they both walk beside each other, parallel forever, never to intersect. Perpendicular, irregular only with sharp cutting lines, sharp cutting words. 

“You make a mess wherever you go and now we don’t have Meagan to come clean up your messes do we?

_ We don’t have Meagan. She was let go last week. We don’t have your mother. We’ll never have her again. We don’t have anybody. We aren’t we. You are you, and you are alone, just as I am alone, just as I was left, I will leave you.  _

Sawyer shook his bowed head.

“So who has to clean it up? I do! Just like I do everything around this damn house! I cook for you, I do your laundry, I clean up after you. I mean, come on Sawyer! Are you a dog?” 

Jack had to switch windows because his frost crept up and encased the entire window. The two figures now crystallized, distorted, shapes in the window. Two shifted, splinted energies cracked across his looking window. 

“Huh?! Are you mutt that rolls around in the mug and tracks it into the house? If you can’t even eat your breakfast without making a mess, what you think is going to happen when you open that present?”

Tearing paper, pieces of green and gold confetti, stripped and flaking like the dried skin at the scalp of his head too slicked back with gel to be seen in the fluorescent light. Tearing boxes, tearing plastic like the fallen pine needles from the Christmas tree spilled over the white carpet uncleaned unvacuumed for fourteen days. 

“I don't think you should open your present today.” He said, with finality, “If you can’t learn to treat this house with the respect that it deserves, the respect I deserve, then you shouldn’t be rewarded for that behavior.”

“Wait, no!” Sawyer’s head snapped up in alarm, “Please don’t!”

They were just toys, sure, but to a child? They were pieces of their childhood, objects that carried more meaning and significance than even people sometimes. People were flawed, people hurt others, but that stuffed animal, that toy truck or lego set? That was always there. For little kids like Sawyer who didn’t trust their parents, that toy might have been something to save him, emotionally, when nothing else could. 

“Are you talking back to me? Are you seriously talking back to me right now? Alright, get up,” said the man with paper bills folded inside his skin and stacked up his arms and down to each individual finger. A man with red ink scribbled and ripped and embedded into him. A man with a red pen in his hand, shaking hand ready to scribble more red onto the white carpet and the white walls and his son. 

“Dad-“ Sawyer started to plead, the white of his eyes wide.

“Yes, get up right now,” He was standing, towering over the small child in his seat, “Get up, Sawyer!”

Sawyer stood, eyes shimmering with tears as he looked at the ground, “Clear the table, and clean up your mess. And then I want you to bring the table cloth to the laundry and go to your room. “

“But- I wanted-“

“Do you think I  _ care  _ about what you want? To unwrap some stupid toy? Do you think  _ I _ wanted this? To be stuck with a brat who can’t even clean up after himself and then thinks he deserves a toy because of it?” He scoffed, and every red dot, every unfairly placed, red dot, swam in his vision, blinding him to anything else but red, “No you definitely don't deserve that present. Go to your room and don’t even think about opening it while I’m gone.”

“You- you have work today?” It’s strange how a slimmer of Hope can peak through a face, through the subtle upturn of his head and the tearing white of his eyes. It’s strange how the hope is so tempting to squash. 

“You’re happy about that, huh?” His nose tensed into an ugly scowl, a Hope squashing scowl, and he lurched towards Sawyer, “You think you can open it behind my back, or sneak out while I’m gone, huh? All of the things I do for you and you think you can disobey me like that-“

He grabbed Sawyer’s arm, dragging him towards the front of the large staircase in the entrance of the house that led upstairs. Sawyer yelped in pain as he was forcibly dragged up the stairs. Jack pushed off from the windowsill and darted around to the front of the yard where he saw their outlined forms in the warped glass surrounding the frost door. Sawyer was struggling, pushing as far away from his dad as he could, but he wasn’t letting go. In a flurry of blurred movements, Jack saw the outline of Sawyer’s father strike him, and Jack looked away, blinking rapidly, only to find the solution to his problem, a solution to the scribbled line of red upon Sawyer’s face. He rushed towards the car and tugged on the doorframe. Unlocked, Jack grinned briefly before reaching across the passenger seat and setting the car into neutral and let off the parking brake. He stepped out and tapped his staff on the ground, creating, essentially, the perfect ice ramp. Sawyer was still struggling during the few seconds Jack stepped away, and he wasted no time creating a heavy snowball, encasing it in hard ice, before he chucked it at the window. Snow exploded onto its surface with a loud thud, and Jack tossed another one, just to make sure he had his attention. The disoriented form of Sawyer’s Dad let go of him, dropping him on the bottom step before walking towards the front door. The nice BMW Mr. Chester owned was starting to slide nicely down their sloped driveway as he peeked his head out of the door and saw his vehicle making getaway from him, dragging a four legged line through the snow.

Leaping to his feet Mr. Chester darted after his car with a, “No, no, no, no!” The landscape of his mind a canvas of scribbled, discorporated, mangled red. 

Jack stepped to the side and hummed, finding a small amount of amusement from his scrambling but still seething in anger, in aching empathy. He turned and caught Sawyer’s eye, which widened almost comically. 

“Hey, buddy,” Jack gave a little half smile and stepped through the open doorway. He was still on the floor, cradling his red tinted cheek and looked at Jack as one would look at some sort of saving angel, “You okay?”

“Jack… Frost?” Sawyer whispered, still wide eyed, “You’re real?”

Jack patted himself as if to double check, “Well, I think so! Real as the ice on your driveway, I’d say.”

His cheek lifted up just barely in a smile, but it stopped as if it didn’t know whether the smile belonged there or not. Before Jack could suggest his game plan, Sawyer’s Dad burst through the half closed door with a flushed face and wild hair, flakes of dandruff peeking through. He was already dressed for the day in a crisp business suit that wasn’t so crisp anymore, and he stormed over to grab his keys off the table. 

“I’m going to work,” He announced without even turning to look at his son and storming back to the door. Not guilt, not shame, just utter defeat as clear as the flop of his hair. Jack peeked out to see the car backwards and gently rested against the small snow hill. Purposely, Jack made sure his car wasn’t rammed against a tree and stopped the slippery ice when it met soft snow. He wanted his dad to  _ leave,  _ not be unable to. 

But, it couldn’t hurt to have him slip and fall on his ass in the driveway. Jack sold a sly glance to Sawyer when his father biffed it and Sawyer let out a small, barely audible gasp that Jack counted as a giggle. 

It wasn’t until his car pulled away, slipping slightly on the fresh ice, did Jack turn to Sawyer with a wide grin. 

“You wanna have some fun?”

* * *

The sun was high in the noon sky, and Jack made sure the clouds were puffy and spotted, just the way he liked it. Clouds gave him the opportunities to make it snow, but the thick sheet of impenetrable clouds was no fun. Fun times were with the sun cascading down on the pristine snow, making them glow in their powdery white sparkle. Sun that almost, not quite warmed the exposed circle of their faces and illuminated the sparkle of the snowflakes that fell on their eyelids. Cupcake, expeccially enthralled with the bunny of winter, let out her ungloved hand to catch some snowflakes. Jack sent a few flowery flurries her way and smiled as they landed neatly in her hair, like a crown. Jamie and the gang were here, laughing in their thick jackets and furred boats. Sawyer started out lingering on the edge, unused to the crowd of friends including him. The kids were friendly enough, grinning at another person who could see Jack and play with him. 

They started by making snowmen, tall and plump and smiling. It was one of Jack’s favorite past times. He had made his first snowman when he was lonely one night. The stabbing ache piercing him with a fresh dagger, before the loneliness was an old comfort. Making a snowman wasn’t easy, but Jack learned how to sculpt that week. Spending hours carving and curving the arms and the legs- starting over multiple times because the poor man’s arm broke off so many times. Eventually he created it. The first snow man. A little on the bigger side and much taller than Jack was, but he had a beautiful smile. It was a little pathetic, how lonely he was. How he stayed with the man sculpture for weeks at a time, floating back to him at night and pretending that he could hug him back. The man was sculpted so his arms were wrapped around an invisible-Jack-sized-object. He had even taken to  _ talking  _ to the sculpted man, naming him Aspen for the woods that he was created in. The weeks turned into months, and Jack found himself wishing that Aspen was real, nearly thinking he was. In fact, Jack could manipulate the snow of his face to smile, to frown, to crinkle his eyes, or the arms to tighten around him. Aspen  _ was  _ real. As real as Jack was then. Just suspended into existence because of the belief of one person, one being. The moon believed in Jack and Jack believed in Aspen. Who knew if Jack was as real as the humans. Who knew if Jack was anything more that consolidated lake water and freshly fallen snow. Who knew if Jack was anything more than Aspen, a snow sculpted man. 

Aspen melted that spring, his smile dripping into a frown, and even as Jack preserved him through the blooming flowers, he couldn’t pour his magic into the summer, not when with his magic so weak, and Aspen melted. 

During the next winters Jack sculpted multiple snowmen, snow women, snow children, making families and pretending that he could just sculpt his family out of snow. But every season they melted. For years Jack did it. Don’t ask him why. But as the years went on and the snow people grew less attached to him, Jack stopped sculpting the human like arms and human like faces. Eventually, snowmen were less like men and more like snow. Three snowballs stacked with sticks instead of arms. Jack had always used coal for the eyes, he liked the polished look of them, but most of what Aspen was had been reduced to a funky looking gremlin. Jack took great pride in his snowman creation now, and Aspen would probably like them too, he decided. Especially Frosti. Man Frosti was great. The first time he figured out to bring a snow creature to life, if only for a little while. It was a bit bittersweet, knowing that the kids could see  _ Frosty  _ but they couldn’t see  _ Jack Frost,  _ but man did they have fun.

“ _ You  _ created Frosty the Snowman?” Jamie exclaimed when Jack brought it up. 

He was finishing his touches on the snow person him and Sawyer were sculpting. Sawyer hadn’t said much, but he looked as utterly shocked as the rest of the kids were.

Jack used his thumb to sculpt out a nice looking nose on the snowman’s face and said, “Yeah, who else do you think can make snow come to life?” He snorted, “The snow queen?”

“The snow queen is real?”

Jack shrugged, “Depends on what you think is real. She was real to some people, but Frosti, oh yeah, he was real. Had a good sense of humor too.”

“In the Frosty movie, you're the bad guy though-ow!” Caleb said, but didn’t get very far before Cupcake punched his shoulder.

Jack just laughed at that, “Oh yeah, I’m always the bad guy in movies. I’m pretty sure there’s a movie about me being a serial killer which is, ya know, rude and all.”

Jamie shook his head in disdain on Jack’s behalf, “That’s so weird.”

“It’s funny how they always get the stories mixed up,” Sawyer said in the timid little voice of his, “Like how you were trying to get rid of Frosty instead of being the one that  _ made  _ him.”

“Yeah, I guess it was my fault. I can’t keep snow things alive for a long time, but I sure try,” Jack hummed, standing up to take stock of his creation. He set about making a miniature dog sculpture, thinking the snowman needed a companion. It took him about three minutes to finish it and sculpt out the little spotted patterned on the snow dog's fur. It’s name was Spot. 

Sawyer looked up at him, eyes gleaming hopefully, “Can you make  _ these  _ snowmen come to life, Jack?”

“Oh, yes, Jack!”

“That would be  _ so cool!” _

“Can you, Jack?”

“I would love to see my snowman come to life!”

He stood with a broad grin, “Alright, alright, I’ll see what I can do,” barely able to contain his excitement. It had been so long since Jack made a snowman come to life, must have been in the 60’s. After the devastation of the kids and the lack of belief that followed, Jack refrained from creating any more, but this time was different. These kids could actually see him. They believed in him. Filtering his magic into each snow particle of the snow creatures was easier than he remembered it being, giving the little creations the ability to wiggle the stick fingers without breaking them and stretch their coal lipped smile. Those made with only one lip, a lined smile, unfortunately meant that the snowman couldn't speak, but that didn’t stop them from leaping up in glee and smiling brightly. It took a bit of extra snowfall, and some happy induced a snowflakes to get the snowmen wiggling, but if the kids excited gasps were anything to go by, Jack would say it was working. He opened his eyes to see the yapping form of a little snow dog and the feeling of its damp paws on Jack’s pants as it tried to reach Jack’s face to lick him. Good thing Jack had given him a tongue. 

“Hey there, little guy,” Jack said and patted the head of the snow dog. That seemed to satisfy it and it leapt down to prance around all of the other kids and their snowmen. Immediately, a snowball fight was induced, each snowman on the side of the kid that created it. 

“Get him, Princess Warrior Sparkles!” Cupcake shouted at her snow woman who was decorated in one of cupcake’s spare tutu’s. Jack let out a tinkling laugh and dodged the snowball tossed in his direction. The snowman Jack and Sawyer had created was the largest and almost protectively guarded Sawyer from any and all flying snowballs. 

“Don’t worry,” The snowman said, “I’ll protect you, Sawyer! Here, throw this snowball while I cover you!”

It was only then that Sawyer’s face split with the brightest and happiest smile Jack had ever seen. He jumped up, ready to defend his snowman’s honors and participate in the full on war. Jack didn’t take sides, forming instant snowballs for all of the kids. In the middle of the war, there was a clear space with no cover and Jack formed an avalanche of snowballs, in a pretty triangle formation in the middle where no one dared go. Just to spice things up.

He perched on his staff, “Need some ammo guys?”

It was Spots that tore through the clearing first, earning a few hazardously thrown snowballs, and yipped as it ran around the ammo pile. Jamie dove for the snowballs next, grabbing as much as he could carry before darting back behind the mini snow hill and his snowman. His snowman was a small bouncy thing that threw hard and fast snowballs. Jack wandered over to Monty and peeked into the little igloo that Monty was hiding in. 

“Hey buddy,” Jack said, offering him a snowball.

“No thanks,” Monty said, “My snowman said ‘Happy Birthday’ to me when he came alive and it scared me.”

Jack glanced at the medium sized snowman that was pouting on the outskirts of the fight, “Aw, he was just trying to be funny, Monty. He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“No, I know, I just don’t understand it. How can something made of snow have a sense of humor? Where is it’s  _ brain?” _

Jack hummed, “Oh, I don’t think you need a brain to be funny. I just think you need a laugh.”

“But that makes no sense!” Monty cried. 

“It’s not supposed, little man,”Jack ruffled his hair and collapsed the snow igloo around him, “It’s  _ magic.”  _

Monty yelped at this and immediately ducked the three snowballs that were tossed towards him at his emergence. His humorous snowperson stepped in and tossed a few snowballs in retaliation, much to Monty’s surprise. 

Sawyer let out a delighted scream, “I need some ammo!”

“Coming right up,”Jack swiped his staff on the ground to provide snowballs and ignored Jamie’s outcry of, “No fair!”

Jack flew up a little above the fight, “No fair?” And dropped clumps of snow onto Jamie and his snowman from the tree branches directly above. 

“Jack!”Jamie laughed and brushed the snow out of his hair. 

Jack grinned, innocently, “What?”

Getting his revenge, Jamie’s small snowperson shot a snowball that burst onto Jack’s face. He wiped it off with a “Good shot!” And Jamie and his snowman whooped in triumph. They were about to win the snow fight as it was coming to an end, kids teaming up and hiding with each other and using just snow itself to toss in their faces when the ammo ran out.

Pippa started pointing at Cupcake and laughing at the snowflakes that dotted her lashes and Cupcake retaliated by shoveling snow down her shirt. They were all panting, exhausted and exhilarated and the joy they were radiating was starting to make Jack’s cheeks hurt from the smiling. The scene was so familiar and yet it was so different. So much better. 

Sawyer was laughing, dimpled cheeks indented in happiness and he threw snow up into the air and it landed on Jamie’s flushed face. The snowball fight had far strayed from the game it started as and kids were laughing so hard they could barely throw straight, let alone form a snow ball. Jack was laughing, completely free in the way his laughter carried over all of theirs, and then dropped back down to background noise. A symphony of laughter that rose and then fell, a crescendo and a decrescendo. A gasp that cut through the music like an abrupt rest.

“Sawyer?” Jack followed the source of the noise, the small seven year old boy, seemingly struck by some invisible force. Only his eyes moved to Jack, full of an emotion so potent Jack nearly felt it himself. Jack turned, following his line of sight to the white House on the hill and BMW parked in the drive way. Was it that late already? The sun was lower in the sky, the air seemed even more frigid now, the kids were shivering with the cold, taking off their soaked gloves to display red tipped fingers. 

Sawyer’s dad stepped out of the car and his figure trained on Sawyer, unreadable from so far away but easily interpretable. If Jack’s blood weren’t already frozen it would have, on behalf of this little boy. During the drop in his sudden joy, the snowmen all grew still. The life magic sucked out of them as the atmosphere grew too stagnant for them to exist in. 

“What happened?”

“What’s going on?” Cupcake looked sadly at Princess Warrior Sparkles who was now still. 

Sawyer’s lower lip started to tremble, startling the rest of the group and urging Jack forward to crouch down in front of him.

“Jack,” He whispered in such a small voice that even the leaves could not hear him, “Don’t let him take me back. You said- you said-“

“I know. I know,”Jack placed a gentle hand on his shoulder,hesitating as he wondered how he was ever going to explain himself without breaking this poor kids heart, “Listen. I, um, I can’t take you with me right now- no please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Listen, Sawyer, I promise-“

Jack inclined his head to meet Sawyer’s eyes, “I promise I’ll save you.”

“Sawyer!” His dad called, subtle anger lacing his voice. Anger that most adults would brush off as normal, healthy even, understandable.

“Tonight,”Jack blurted and Sawyer looked up at him, so devastatingly hopeful that Jack’s breath caught, “Pack up your favorite things tonight and I’ll pick you up okay? I’ll explain then.”

“Really?” Sawyer’s voice cracked. 

Jack gave him a slight smile, “Really. Try to sneak the present if you can, yeah? It’d be a shame to leave it behind.”

His dad called out again, louder, “Sawyer!” 

Before Jack could say anything else, Sawyer slipped out from under his hand and ran towards the one person that he wanted to run away from. Jack stared at him, rooted in a terrible feeling that spread like tar from his feet, like blackened snow. He watched Mr. Chester take hold of his son’s shoulder and shove it forwards, pushing him through the front door and out of sight. Jack should have taken him. He could have taken him. But then what? Where would he go? Each kid was shivering and in desperate need for warmth that Jack could not provide. It was illegal to kidnap someone, but since when had Jack followed the rules? Not in his human life, not in his spirit life. Even if he was supposed to wait for Bunny’s okay- Jack wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He had to do something and if not now, he would do it tonight, even if they weren’t ready for him. 

“What’s going on Jack?” Jamie tugged the edge of his sweatshirt and curled his frozen fingers in the fabric. 

He turned plastering an easy going smile on his face and apologizing, “I ran out of magic for the snow people. I’m sorry. But hey- it’s a good time for it hot chocolate and blankets, don’t you think?”

“Hot chocolate sounds amazing,” One of the twins said, huddling close to the other to try and find warmth. 

Jack said, “then what are you waiting for? Go get some hot chocolate and your christmas toys!”

“Are you coming, Jack?” Jamie asked. 

“Ah, no, I think I’m going to head out, but I’ll be back.”

“Tonight right? For Sawyer?”

“I…”

“It’s okay,” Jamie said, “I think you’re doing the right thing.”

Jack said, “I’m going to find a home for him. Somewhere good. I will.”

Jamie hummed, “I know you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BMiM- Before the Man in the Moon’s Birth
> 
> Pookan Time  
> 1 CYCL— 280 days, nearly equivalent to an Earth YEAR.  
> 1 SOLANN— The time it takes for the 1st sun to revolve around the 2nd sun. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth MONTH.  
> 1 PHASE— 5 days, the time it takes for the two suns to converge in the sky in an eclipse. Nearly equivalent to 1 Earth WEEK.
> 
> Doa- a parental name for the parent that gave birth, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buca- a parental name for the other parent, can be female or male since Pooka are shapeshifters.  
> Buck and Doe- A deer a female deer, No, haha. Female rabbits are actually called a Doe as well and vice versa. Pookan partners refer to their significant other as a Doe or Buck depending on their preference and sexuality.
> 
> Arivum Pooka: The Meadow Pooka. Living in the Savannah/grasslands area of their world. On this planet, their crops grow the best in this climate and the majority are farmers and harvesters. Stay on the surface of the planet.
> 
> Nixava Pooka: The Snow Pooka. Living in the mountainous, forest area of their world. Physically stronger, taller. Fanged and usually six armed. They have large padded feet. Their fur resembles their climate of snow and is white and very thick.
> 
> Cuniculus Pooka: The Burrow Pooka. Living underneath the ground in tunnels and burrows. Close to the center of Lepus and charged with guarding Lepus. (More will be released in later chapters)
> 
> Ahua/Kahua- Aster’s and Hani’s Doa and Eamon’s Doe. Part Arivum Pooka and Nixava Pooka  
> Eamon/Amon- Aster’s and Hani’s Buca and Ahua’s Buck. Arivum Pooka  
> Hani/Khani- Aster’s brother and twin light. Arivum and Nixava Pooka  
> Kheamha- Ahua’s Buca. Aster and Hani’s grandbuca. She/her pronouns. Nixava Pooka  
> Keloi- Aster and Hani’s older sibling. Eamon and Ahua’s first born. Arivum and Nixava Pooka. Switching pronouns.
> 
> Twiner- Jack’s staff and conscience
> 
> ~
> 
> My mom always said she learned the hard way and I think Aster did too. It’s never an easy answer for him, never easy to get what he wants. Tell me what you think though! Of the scene. I’m trying to get better at writing action and thriller, I guess, for lack of better word. Or dramatics. 
> 
> Also! I’m 100% sure that Jack sees kids being abused on the daily and its the worst thing for him to be unable to do anything. I hope I wrote it okay and didn’t offend anyone. but its nice writing this fanfic because I can just say ‘magic!’ And get away with it- gives Monty a bit of a crisis though. I like the idea of Jack Frost creating Frosty the Snowman and hoping that kids will believe him, only to find they think /they/ did something special to bring him to life. I also thought about writing a short little fic of Jack surrounding himself with snow people, maybe even making a kingdom of it, in another universe. 
> 
> <3


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